


Hothouse

by myaekingheart



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), The Incredibles (2004)
Genre: Alternate Universe - American Horror Story, Alternate Universe - Horror, American Horror Story References, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:30:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 27
Words: 67,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myaekingheart/pseuds/myaekingheart
Summary: When the Parr family’s deep, dark secret is revealed, they’re forced to abandon their hometown for a crumbling colonial mansion in the tiny northeast town of Burgess. But the family soon discovers this new home of theirs houses it’s own set of grave secrets and when Violet accidentally drags her entire family into the dangerous universe of one wayward spirit, the absolute chaos that erupts from her actions will make them wish they never came.(Originally written in 2013-2014)





	1. Prologue

Silence. The only term remotely appropriate enough to describe this. The silence of the drive. The silence of their unspoken words. The silence of that moment when such a benign lifestyle draped over a massive secret was uncloaked in the light of day. My eyes stay transfixed on the world outside, blues and greens all blending together as we speed by, but my mind is set on something much, much different. Something much less tranquil than this innocent earth we live on. Something I only expected to appear in nightmares and fever dreams replaying like primetime porn. It wasn’t until then that I became aware that a lie is valid payment for a one-night affair.

 

“Don’t worry, Mr. Incredible. No one has to know…”

Famous last words spoken from the filthy lips of a stranger, her sharp shoulders shimmying their way out of her slim black dress as it fell to the floor. Her supermodel body approached him as she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her fingers down his chest, her thin lips caressing his neck and leaving waxy mauve stains as he grasped her hips and moaned. Breathing was a nonexistent task right now. And it wasn’t even so much my parent’s marriage that I felt this slut threatened as her stick figure clashed with my father’s beefy body in a horizontal tango. It was our reputation, our facade. Our cover.

 

Despite how desperate I was, nothing I tried could possibly ameliorate this sickening sensation growing in my stomach as my parent’s tension in the front seat prodded at my sanity, biting my bottom lip and digging my nails into my palms just to retract my anger. And poor, innocent little Dash, his obnoxiously exaggerated volumes bouncing off the dented walls of the car, boiled my blood further as his toy plane swooped down to dive-bomb an old Barbie doll. His cluelessness was intimidating.

 

Narrowing my eyes at him, I reached over and silently snatched the Barbie out of his hand, staring down at her plastic perfection as Dash whined and reached across the backseat to retrieve it. Pushing him away, I curled up deep in the corner and studied the naked doll, still perfect despite the slight mess of her platinum blonde hair and the fading of her face paint. Even with these minor flaws, she was still beautiful. But as I sat crunched there in the corner with her, running my hands over her plastic breasts and gripping her tiny waist, the more she reminded me of that prostitute who ruined us. With that same fury rising in my throat once again, I wrapped my hand around the doll’s tiny head and silently snapped her fragile little neck, small shards of plastic falling into my lap as I squeezed her hollow, dismembered head like a stress ball. Even this didn’t help dilute the rage.

 

As the pokerface of my quiet fury began collapsing, the silence was finally broken as we reached our destination: Burgess. The town was so dull and industrialized, gray skyscrapers jutting from the cement as the stink of car fumes and power plants filtered through the air conditioning vent. My stomach churned from the disgust, clunking my head against the window. The one thing that puzzled me most, though, was how it was only September yet a thick blanket of snow covered the city, frost painting the windows in a floral design. The northeast was new terrain but this surely wasn’t average. The bursts of frigid air coming from nowhere in particular sent shivers down my spine as I clutched that broken Barbie doll to my chest and drew my knees up closer.

 

Our car ventured through the entire town until the buildings seemed to disperse and eventually disappear, finally reaching a back road so dark and barren it was as if it gobbled up any light which tried to permeate it. And then there, protruding from the dead grass was none other than our new home. It’s body touched the treeline, moss climbing the giant pillars about the rotting doorway. Water stained shingles flaked off the exterior, shards of glass sprinkled on the lawn. I could tell by my parents faces that this palace of theirs surrendered their expectations. I thought it was marvelous. A hellhole to perfectly match my aggravated soul. Oh joy.

 

“It looked better online…”, my dad grumbled as he stomped around to the trunk to unload our belongings. Anything we could steal away with us was limited to the size of our trunk and the extra space in our car. Cherished memories were sacrificed alongside our hometown to cater to the requirement of safety.

 

Tugging my tote bag inside, I found the mansion’s interior met the expectations risen from it’s first impression. Cockroaches and termites littered the floor as they punched holes in the walls, the carpets stained with the past defacations of woodland creatures. Paradise.  
I didn’t even bother to say anything before dragging what little belongings I had up the creaking staircase to the highest room of the house: the attic. Mothballs rolled about the floor and roaches made themselves comfortable on a rusting bed hidden in the corner, moonlight pouring through a broken window at the very center of the back wall. Rotting perfection. Carelessly, I shoved whatever clothes I had into the drawers of a dusty dresser placed against the window’s adjacent wall, haphazardly tossing that damaged Barbie doll onto the top. Hopefully the vermin could find a place to breed inside her.

 

Moving away from the bureau, I stood in front of the cracked mirror against the wall and stripped into nothing but my bra and underpants, staring unhappily at myself. My chest was flat, my sides were straight, the imprint of my ribs shone through my skin. My wrists were too small and my knees were too knobbly. My face was all crooked teeth and ugly faint freckles. I felt myself swing vigorously at my reflection, shards of already cracked glass scattering across the floor as the impact from my fist knocked the Barbie doll’s head and it rolled down beneath the armoir. I hated myself. I wasn’t beautiful. I’d never be normal. And I had a secret deep within me that I knew had the potential to ruin my life. It already did once.

 

The clang of the mirror’s breaking glass caught the attention of my mother all the way downstairs as I heard her heavy footsteps increase in volume as she made her way to the attic. “Violet, honey? Is everything okay? I heard loud noises!”

 

My eyes widened and I scrambled for the door, determined to keep myself locked away from the rest of the world as I peeked my head through the doorway. “Everything’s fine! Just…don’t worry about me….”, I called back down to her. Her lack of response gave me the validation I needed that she heard my reply. With a sigh, I slammed the door shut and turned the lock on the dirt-encrusted doorknob. “That ought to keep them away”, I murmured to myself. But in that instance, something didn’t feel quite right.

 

Shallow breathing filled the room, and it wasn’t my own. The soft pitter-patter of another’s footsteps reflected off the rotting floorboards and an innocent voice murmured to themself, “Oh, you’re broken…such a pretty doll, too…don’t worry, Papa will fix you…”  
Slowly turning towards the sound, my eyes caught sight of movement at the other end of the room. Biting my lip hard, I watched intently as the figure became clearer and I suddenly realized I wasn’t exactly alone anymore…


	2. 1

Sirens blared in my eardrums, great flashes of light blurrying my vision as I felt my bare feet pound against the cold, hard ground. Great white vans surrounded me, menacing lab coats and surgical-masked faces stood as threats fumbling to wrap me in straight jackets. Familiar, benign scenes suddenly transformed into monstrous nightmares engulfed in flames. Flames whose fingers licked at my wrists and ankles and unwillingly pulled me closer.

Tears streamed down my face as I snapped awake, beads of sweat forming on my forehead and my dark hair falling in my eyes, shielding out the majority of the brilliant morning sunlight. But I wasn’t where I fell asleep….

Tall trees towered over me like great mossy skyscrapers, a canopy of green above my head. Dirt was caked beneath my nails and smudged on my face, bra, and underwear, dew caught in the messy strands of my hair and something strange trickling down from my forehead. Warm, sticky. Blood.

My fingers gently grazed the spot where I was leaking, wincing at the sensitivity my touch brought, as the substance stained my fingers, it’s rusty scent nauseating me. Beside me laid a regular old shovel, and I heard faint whispers waft in from the woods. Fear began churning my insides as I racked my brain, trying to piece together all the possibilities that could’ve brought me here. Though dizzy, I stumbled back towards home and in through the backdoor.

The house was unusually quiet, an old grandfather clock in the hallway ticking in time with the seconds. It read 9:42 AM. No wonder the house seemed empty. Dad would’ve already been at work, and Dash left for school. So didn’t that mean I was meant to be at school, as well? Confusion riddled me senseless. It was as if as I was suffering from a great hangover and an apocalypse ate away at everything during my intoxication. Wiping the blood and soil from my face with a washcloth, I ventured through the barren house. There must’ve been someone home– Mom, perhaps. She was a homemaker; she didn’t have anywhere to go unless the grocery store counted as a household chore. She had to be here somewhere.

Slowly tiptoeing up the stairs, I paused when a strange sound hit my ears. The sound of….groaning….? Memories of my father and that silver-haired prostitute flashed in my brain. I silently followed the sound out of curiosity, the gasps and moans growing in volume as I reached my parent’s bedroom door. Pressing my ear against the rotting wood, I could identify the situation almost instantly. Those were the pleasurable gasps and groans of someone having sex. But unless folding laundry turned her on, I couldn’t imagine at what point my mom was so horny she had to feel herself up. Dad wasn’t home to screw her. So then who was…? My curiosity ate away at my insides, my heart pounding out of my chest. As silently as possible, I creaked the door ajar and peered inside, covering my mouth to hold in my gasp.

There, on the bed, was Mom, gripping an ominous figure cloaked in skintight black, whose thrusts and bites sent shivers down her spine as she fought the pleasure he brought her. Our once clean laundry was haphazardly strewn across the floor.

Pressing my back against the outer wall, I tried to comprehend what was actually happening here. Had she hired some masked hooker as revenge for Dad’s doings? Or was she being…I dare not say the word I knew was deemed all too true for such circumstances. Racing downstairs, my mind whirled with scenarios of this creature’s true identity, what he wanted, why he was doing this and, most importantly, what I needed to do. I mean, did I call the police? Was that a valid action appropriate for this situation? Or did I let him fuck her senseless and do what he wanted with her? I quickly decided the latter was nonsensical and that the police were the only option. Feeling for my phone, I grasped it’s mechanical body and went to swipe it away in one quick motion, but something caught my arm and prohibited my actions. A cold, rubber-clad hand. Slowly turning to look back at the figure, I received a good view of him. His body was tall and thin, the entirety of himself cloaked in skin-tight black rubber. Though I couldn’t see his face, I could sense his underlying smirk as he wagged a finger at me and snatched my phone from my hand.

Completely taken aback, I permitted him to back me up against the wall, unable to voice a scream of help. Just as his stale, hot breath reached my neck, though, some unexplainable force released his grip from me and, once I opened my eyes, the shadowy figure had disappeared. This Nightmare.

Had it been nothing but a mirage? Some strange hallucination resulting from blood loss? I couldn’t stop brainstorming as I stared out at the blurred, snowy landscapes from the passenger side window. It must’ve been a dream. It had to have been. Glancing over at Mom, she seemed perfectly untouched, like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred since our arrival in this god-forsaken town.

Office buildings and condominiums whirred past out of focus until the car jolted to a stop outside the high school, it’s brick exterior reaching for the sky just like every other building in this city. I didn’t say goodbye as I ran out of the car with my bag.  
The hallways were pristine, stark white and barely littered save for the usual crumpled piece of notebook paper or tampon wrapper. Telephones beeped obnoxiously as secretaries answered in sickeningly cheery voices in the front office, where a woman dressed in a plum pant suit handed me my schedule and led me down hall after spotless hall to third period. The blank faces which greeted me were all too unnerving.

Girls with cinched waists and overflowing breasts lounged in the back of the room, smacking their glossy lips as they painted intricate designs on their claws. Jocks’ quiet chatters followed me to my seat as I slumped down in the middle of the room. I was an ink stain on a disgusting rainbow. The slap of a meter stick against the stringent teacher’s desk awoke me from my partly dazed state and quieted the rest of the room’s chatter, but out of all the preppy students in the room, there was one person in particular who caught my eye, intrigued me beyond compare. He might’ve just been the only interesting person in the entire city.

A lone wolf, tall and lean, sat smirking in the corner at the ridiculous antics of stereotypical cheerleaders. His skin was pale, almost silvery, and his eyes flashed almost golden in the winter sunlight. His hair was messy and spiked in odd directions, straight side-swept bangs falling into his face. His chiseled features almost mimicked that of a Greek statue. Something about him made part of me curious, while the other part mocked his Twilight-esque appearance. It was as if he was one of the sparkly bastards himself. Yet for some reason I couldn’t help but wonder why looking at him gave me such a strange sense of….there’s no word to quite pinpoint how he made me feel, but I was sure it wasn’t a good feeling in the slightest.

Each period gradually decreased my sanity more and more as my ears picked up select remarks of “Oh my gosh, is she anorexic?”, “Did she dumpster dive for her clothes?”, and “Look how sunken in her face is. She must be on drugs”. How badly I wanted to smother their unrealistic bodies in lighter fluid and watch them burn to insignificant ashes. They all had one thing about them that made me despise them even more: they all looked like her. My fingers itched for something sharp to slice away their remarks.

As the blaring bell, so reminiscent of those sirens which haunted my dreams, declared us free for lunch, I quietly found myself making my way to a corner in the courtyard heavily hidden by a congregation of black orchids backed up against the school’s brick wall. Their gothic elegance was beautiful albeit slightly unsettling. Their raven petals mesmerized me until a deep voice snapped me from my daydreams.

“Well, it looks like I won’t be eating alone today”, a smooth voice, like black oil, spoke from behind me. Turning towards it’s source, it was none other than Twilight boy from the back row. Outside, his eyes gleamed almost silver.

“Oh! Um, I’m sorry to, uh, intrude. I just thought–” I started before the boy interrupted me.

“Don’t worry, it’s simply no trouble at all”, he chuckled. He spoke with an attractive British accent that struck my whole body paralyzed as he scooted into the free space beside me and unwrapped his sandwich– I could smell the potent odor of egg salad from a mile away. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

I nodded silently. Here came the overly rehearsed explanation. It’s script was embedded in my brain like the etchings of a heron on the glass door of a Florida home. “Yeah, my dad’s job transferred him here. He works for Insuricare– you know, that over-priced insurance company with the annoying commercial jingle?” The boy just nodded knowingly and chuckled a bit at my remark to the advertisement, his laugh sending my stomach whirling.

“Maybe after school I could take you on a tour of the town? Show you the sights and whatnot”, he responded with a smile as he took a bite of his sandwich.

“That’d be…that’d be great”, I replied shyly as I delicately picked at my Cheetos. Why did I feel so self-conscious next to him? It was as if I was scared of the cheese seasoning caking onto my fingertips. His smile gave him the look of an attractive villain. “Do you, um, do you need my address or something or?”, I added.

He shook his head. “No, don’t worry. I’ll figure out where you live”, he responded with a flirtatious smirk. Then his eyes widened and chuckled embarassingly. “I’m so rude! I almost forgot, my name’s Koz. Koz Pitchiner”, he said with a gentlemanly flair as he extended his hand for a proper introduction. His name, something about his name, sent a tingle down my spine. There was something different about that name…something all the more intriguing. Without thinking, I took his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Koz. I’m, uh, I’m Vi. Vi Hawkins.”, I responded. I couldn’t forget that lecture Mom droned incessantly, all about the “new town, new name” standard. I hated it. Because I wasn’t “Vi Hawkins”, no. That was not my name. I was Violet Amelia Parr, the depressed daughter of two very unhappy parents. But as long as we were to live in Burgess, Vi Hawkins I would stay.

For the entire rest of the day, Koz was all I could think about. His chiseled features, his pale skin, his messy black hair. And his eyes. His intriguingly different eyes. Despite how charming and debonair he appeared, though, there was still something about him– though I couldn’t tell what– that made my stomach churn whenever I thought about him. Something different within him, something that set him apart from the rest of this dull, stereotypical world. And even though I hadn’t the slightest clue what, I was determined to find out one way or another.


	3. 2

The sky was painted in streaks of gold and red as I snuck through the front door, the clanging of kitchen utensils and aroma of meatloaf originating from the dining room. I dropped my bag at the foot of the stairs and quietly slinked inside.

“Oh, there you are, Violet. I was wondering when you’d get home. How was your day?”, Mom asked as I slid into a seat beside her. The dining room chairs were hard and unstable beneath my weight.

“Nothing to report”, I replied monotonously as I took my fork and prodded at my food.  
“I heard you spent the entire day alone, and then walked around the neighborhood by yourself after school!”, Dash teased as he took a sip of his drink. My head snapped up to look at him.

“W-what? Where did you hear that?”, I questioned. His assumptions completely opposed the truth. Yes, I had walked around the neighborhood after school, but I wasn’t alone. That intriguing classmate of mine had carted me around the city, showing off his knowledge of the centuries-old town. I was absolutely, positively not alone.

Dash guffawed at my panic. “Everyone saw you! Some of them said they caught you talking to yourself. If you keep it up, maybe the men in the white coats’ll come back and put you in a straight jacket again!”

“Dash, enough!”, Mom interrupted. I absentmindedly stared at my plate in awe. I knew for a fact that I wasn’t alone that day, yet somehow nobody apparently could see Koz…? Had he just been another hallucination, like the rapist this morning? Or maybe I was truly going insane. Either way, I wouldn’t let this bewilderment qualify me for a room in the mental hospital. I refused.

That night, as the great moon replaced the vivid sun in the sky, we all huddled beneath heavy wool blankets in the living room for a movie night, an old film flickering on the screen of a dated television found in the house. The wintry air seemed cooler tonight than any other. But despite our close proximity, I still kept my distance from my parents and brother. Disturbing mental images of those sirens, the white trucks and the men with the straight jackets, that night our hometown turned on us all played on an endless loop in my mind until a tap on my shoulder stirred me from my daydreams.

“Vi, do us a favor and go down and see if that thermostat in the basement works, would you?”, Dad asked quietly as Mom and Dash stared blankly at the TV screen. I nodded at his request and shimmied out from underneath the blankets. Just the reprieve I needed.  
Grabbing a nearby candle from the kitchen, I creaked the basement door open, blackness waiting to swallow me whole. I didn’t look back.

Each creaking step filled me with unease as I struggled to light my way down, the glinting red eyes of overstuffed rats staring back at me before disappearing into the night. Halfway down the staircase, a sound so strange in it’s context petrified my every muscle. The sound of laughter. Children’s laughter, to be exact. Wafting up from the floor of the basement. And what sounded like…music? Cheery music, a screeching fiddle like heard in old pioneer movies. Echoed happiness.

I fought my every urge to dart straight back upstairs, slowly making my way back down into the darkness. Just as my bare foot reached the cold cement floor, the music stopped. The laughter ceased. Silence. A cold, clammy hand clapped itself over my mouth, and a frigid breeze extinguished the light of my candle. Everything grew dank and dark and dense.

~o~

Brilliant moonlight awoke me as my eyes struggled to adjust, a familiar setting clarifying itself. I was back upstairs in my room in the attic.

“Oh, she’s coming to”, a soft voice whispered. Turning my head over towards the noise, I saw a woman’s face, kindly and unfamiliar. Her mousy brown hair just reached her chin and was neatly tucked behind her ears, age reflected in her chocolate eyes. She had a dark scar across her right cheek.

Terrified of this stranger, I yelped and jumped back away from her. “W-who the fuck are you?!” I screamed, my hand feeling for some sort of weapon behind me. From the shadows behind her, an older man appeared, placing a broad hand on the woman’s shoulder as she looked up at him with concern.

“The poor lamb, she’s terrified”, the woman said softly to her husband before turning back to look at me. “You don’t have to be afraid, sweetheart. We don’t bite.”  
Yeah. Like I was expected to trust some creepy strangers who invaded my house. I looked back and forth from the woman to the man with wide-eyed suspicion until a high-pitched, innocent voice from under the bed petrified me.

“Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!”  
The voice sang with the squeal of a young child in the schoolyard, happy beyond compare and without a care in the world and then, up from beneath my rusting bed frame, stirred a young girl. Something about her, there was something about her. She was too familiar. She looked like her mother, brown hair falling down her back, pin straight, and big round eyes full of questionable innocence. She grinned a toothy smile at me until my eyes drifted down from her face to what she clutched close to her chest. A doll. A headless, plastic Barbie doll.

Oh, you’re broken…such a pretty doll, too…don’t worry, Papa will fix you…

Her voice echoed in my ears and I released a shriek as I backed up against the wall.  
“Ooh, you’re loud!”, she giggled as she climbed up into her mother’s lap. “Papa can fix that.”

“Oh, no! No, no, no! Th-that…that won’t be necessary!”, I stammered. The wall wasn’t far enough from their colorless faces. Their skin was so pale, it was almost as if their entire bodies had been drained of their blood supply.

An intimidating chuckle echoed from the shadows at my fear, it’s source hiding in the darkness as I felt my lethargic body start to sink back down into bed and noticed the man, woman, and child start slowly fading into the distance. “Oh, don’t worry”, a deep voice spoke. “We wouldn’t waste our time killing you.” And with that, my eyes slowly closed as I went limp atop the sheets, a frigid hand gripping my shoulder just as I lost consciousness.

The incessant beeping of my phone’s alarm clock woke me from my slumber and though my exhaustion imposed a great weight upon my limbs, I didn’t care to burden my parents any longer with my tardiness and sucked in a deep breath before trudging out of bed to get dressed. Some feeling churning in my gut whispered negative thoughts of the upcoming day. Apparently my gut was right.

Strong coffee brewing in the kitchen led me downstairs though I despised the scent, and I found Mom sitting at the kitchen table looking absolutely ghastly. Her hair sat in tangles atop her head and her dull eyes were perched on a shelf of dark circles. Her face was pale like that of a corpse. Like that of those strangers in my room last night. The way they just faded off, like memories of infancy, made me question their existence. Were they really tangible humans, or just a daydream?

Though I wanted to question her appearance, I didn’t dare speak a word. I was content with the assumptions of the flu, maybe asbestos seeping into her lungs from the mold caked behind the walls. Either way, I rather wouldn’t have known. Of course, like my gut predicted, I got more than I bargained for.

Her chapped lips released a hearty wheeze as her eyes widened and her face tinged green. Keeping herself as composed as possible, she silently rose from her seat and hustled out of the room, the padding of her bare feet down the hall increasing in speed once she was out of sight. Curiosity tugged at my attention as images of that man caped in black rubber flooded my mind but my wondering were all too soon interrupted by the obnoxious honk of the school bus out front. Hoisting my bag onto my shoulder, I headed for the front yard but as I passed the door into the downstairs bathroom, curiosity killed me yet again. I bit my lip as I tried as silently as possible to creak the door ajar, finding my mother keeled over the toilet, gagging tremendously as chunks of last night’s meatloaf drenched in stomach acid poured from her mouth, the sticky substance laced with tendrils of blood. All I could do was watch in shock, absorbing every detail of the horrific scene. My stomach churned at the memory. The Nightmare.

Koz had disappeared that day, and with him was the courtesy of quiet remarks. Popular girls smothered in designer clothes slid their high-heeled, manicured feet into the hallway in an attempt to trip me and rude comments made by those with nothing better to do degraded my self esteem further. I hid behind the orchids at lunch that day and threw my sandwich to the pigeons, ignoring my growling stomach. I made a silent beeline home.

The comfort of an empty house fed me relief as I slammed the front door shut, haphazardly threw my bag across the room, and let the tears spill down my face from against the wall. Their remarks repeated themselves in my brain the entire time until they fed an itch in my fingers so strong I couldn’t help but answer it. Grabbing a knife from the kitchen, I retreated to the bathroom upstairs and leaned against the sink. With shaky hands, I scraped the knife’s blade horizontally across the skin of my arm, blood surfacing from the action and somehow the pain caused great satisfaction. As if it was the one thing I had control over in this stupid, godforsaken town. I watched each drip of red fall into the sink until one by one they contributed to a tiny sea splashing about and staining the white porcelain. Each slice felt like heaven.

“You’re doing it wrong”, a familiar, deep voice suddenly called from behind me and I paused in my cutting spree. My eyes slowly rose to the mirror where a strange boy stood in the doorway.

Whipping around to face him, I gave a confused look. “What…?”  
He smirked at my puzzlement. His skin was incredibly pale, almost void of any color whatsoever save for a light dusting of freckles, and his pure white, messy hair fell into his sapphire eyes and was softly spiked upwards in a careless fashion. “If you’re trying to kill yourself”, he said matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway, “slice vertically. They can’t stitch that up”.

“How the fuck did you even get in here?”, I questioned the stranger, ready to him slice him myself with my knife.

He grabbed the doorknob and smirked yet again. “If you’re trying to kill yourself, try locking the door”. And with that, he vanished. Completely confused and shocked, I dropped my knife in the sink and ran after him but as soon as I opened the door, he was completely out of sight. The only thing he left behind was a soft layer of frost on the doorknob.

“Fuck, am I losing my mind…”


	4. 3

Rich tones, like orange sherbet, painted the skies as their vivid color reflected against the lapping waves. The shoreline seemed so quiet and serene compared to the city. The usual nausea of the briny ocean air this time was replaced with tranquility, relief. It was as if the entire world had paused for a brief, perfect moment.

Everything was happening too fast. Two meager weeks had passed since that stranger greeted me during my cutting spree, yet he was never seen again since. But with his absence arrived a new slew of torturous occurrences. Koz had never returned to school since the day I had met him, and for what reason I was still unsure of. The possibilities haunted my nightmares. Every so often, visions of that little girl, the ghostly creature who adopted that broken Barbie doll, appear at the end of the hallway in the dark, midnight light but each time I do a double take, she disappears. I can still hear her echoed singing reverberating off the walls of my riddled brain. And as for mom, she lies the most horrifically traumatizing case of all.

The dining room sat silent as we all gathered to eat. Mom’s face was pale and sunken in like most days these past couple weeks. Her wretched morning gag fest had become routine just like showering or brushing your teeth. It became normal, despite how upsettingly abnormal the fact of the matter was. Once Dash and I were seated and had all begun our meal, Dad cleared his throat to break the silence.

“Your mother and I have, um, something we’d like to discuss with you kids”, he started. He shifted in his seat. Nervous. Uncomfortable. His fingers fiddled with his shirt collar like it’s top button was strangling him. Mom placed a hand on his.

“I know my state of being these past couple weeks have been, well, less than normal and there’s a reason behind it, I promise you that much”, she continued. Her chocolate eyes glanced at Dad’s tense face as he returned her gaze with a wavering smile. Their procrastination was less than settling. I wanted them to come right out and admit whatever they were hiding, but then part of me felt it better to just not know in the first place. The latter option was, of course, ruled out as Mom and Dad decidedly blurted out in unison:

“We’re going to have a baby!”

My heart stopped. My breathing stilled. My eyes widened. What. The. Fuck.

They sounded so happy about it! I took it as a curse. Dash beamed at the annnouncement. “I’m gonna have a younger brother or sister?! Oh, this is gonna be totally cool!” he gushed. Mom and Dad giggled at his enthusiasm. Everyone was acting so sickeningly innocent.

“So, you really think this is a good idea?”, I asked, my arms crossed as I leaned back in my seat. They both nodded.

“Of course! Aren’t you happy, honey? To have another baby sibling?”, Mom asked. Aren’t you happy? What, did they think I was an imbecile?

“Of couse I’m not happy! Don’t you understand how idiotic this is?! Doesn’t anybody understand how insanely stupid this is?! And you guys are acting right along like it’s the most fucking blessed thing that could’ve ever happened! Don’t you see? Your fucking marriage has been in peril ever since we left home! The whole reason we had to leave home was because Dad fucked some silver haired prostitute when seemingly nobody was around! Do you really think a baby is going to fix your marriage?”. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. My mouth had disconnected itself from my brain, rebelled against what I knew I should’ve done. I should’ve sat there and bit my lip shut and pretended like it was all going to be okay. Go along with their stupid charade, pretend that everything was all hunky dory. But no, everything was not all “hunky dory”. Were these two idiots really that blind? I knew exactly what had happened. I knew the exact inchoation of this child my mother was bearing. And it wasn’t spawned from my father’s sperm, I knew that much.

Their gaping mouths and frustrated faces were so unholy. I wasn’t dumb, and I wasn’t going to play along with this lie of theirs. I couldn’t handle it anymore. Without saying a word, I threw my fork across the table and stormed out of the house.

Running. Running was the first instinct my feet took to. Have to keep running, got to keep running, run like hell as far away as you can get. The beach rests two miles out of town. My tears blurred my surroundings into a dirty watercolor painting.

By the time I had collapsed at the shore, my eyes had already leaked an ocean, a trail behind me like a yellow brick road highlighting my every twist and turn down the streets, my own personal Mapquest. Hugging the stitch in my side, I silently curled up in the sand. I never wanted to leave. This beach, it was so…innocent. Like it had seen a plethora of topless women, men with lost trunk shorts, hurricanes and couples consummating their love in the twilight, yet it still retained it’s beautiful purity. I wished I could take after it. To see so much corruption yet not know a thing about it. To never suspect anything. A sinless utopia.

Lost in the setting sun, I barely noticed when all the streetlights behind me slowly extinguished one by one until there was nothing but the reddened light of dusk in an otherwise dark abyss. Slow, steady footsteps padding in the sand behind me increase my breathing, by now too terrified to move. My body goes frigid. The footsteps grow louder. The creature’s breathing is elaborated and just as the itch in my legs permits me to run, a cold, rubber-clad hand reaches out and grasps my forearm. Despite how much I squirm and scream, their tight grip refuses to release me as I’m dragged across the grainy terrain and the rhythmic pounding of the rotting wooden staircase tears into my side. The sidewalk scrapes against my skin, burning the exposed flesh until I’m thrown against a hard, concrete wall. The echo gives me enough knowledge to know I’ve been tossed into the bathroom.

Here, the creature’s stomping is even more elaborated as it comes closer, pinning me against the wall as his hot, stale breath projects against my neck. He doesn’t care to be gentle about anything, one hand tightly gripping my throat as the other unbuttons my jeans and slides them down my legs, goosebumps rising on my thighs as my bare skin is soon exposed to the chilly September breeze. His touch is unpleasant and unnerving.

He speaks not a single word as his perfectly aligned teeth bite hard against my neck, resulting in a yelp bursting from my lips. His hands slide up my shirt, unhook my bra, toss all my clothes to the side until I’m stripped down to nothing but naked flesh. His fingers taunt me as he runs his hand up my inner thigh and gently traces my collarbone with his tongue, my knees buckling from reprehensible pleasure. Then his cold hands grip my hips painfully tight and I feel his body shift downwards, his tongue tracing down my hipbone until my legs involuntarily spread apart. It was like his stranger tongue knew some secret password to open wide as I felt his mouth move down from my hips, exploring places never before touched by a man. His tongue proceeded to flick and swirl in and out of me until I slowly slid down the wall, biting my lip hard to hide any sign that I might actually be enjoying this and gripping the concrete block behind me. I could feel his mouth smirk between my legs as his tongue slowly departed and he pressed his cold body close up against my exposed chest, his hands now gripping my breasts as he slowly slid into me and began thrusting hard and fast. My arms instictually shot around his back and gripped the dull spikes protruding from the spine of his rubbery suit. With each thrust a small groan flowed from his thin lips, which he didn’t bother to lick my fluids off of, and his teeth clenched down on my soft skin as he reached closer to his climax. Each plunge was harder and faster than the one prior and instilled a new, unexpected euphoria in me. I didn’t want to find pleasure in such acts, but there was no denying how strangely wonderful each suggestive action made me feel. I could no longer hold back the moans and screams this ecstasy so easily taunted me to release.

With one final, most intense heave, my entire body tingled in sinful pleasure as this creature, this Nightmare, quickly slithered out of me and, without any afterword or action, rose from the hard ground beneath us and disappeared into the darkness, a breathless chuckle following him out. A small smile spread across my lips as I fought to catch my breath, sweat running down my cheeks and congregating at the small of my back. Our strangely lukewarm, intermingled juices lingered on my enflamed thighs as the substance soon reminded me of how serious this situation was. I had been raped. Dragged from the shoreline and raped in the beach’s bathroom. And not just fucked senseless, but by the same ominous creature who had all too recently impregnated my own mother. I cupped my hand over my mouth as I forced myself to sit up, stomach acid rising in my throat from combined odors of sweat, sunscreen, and salty sea air. Without hesitation, I spilled whatever dinner I had consumed right onto the cold, hard floor.

Nobody knew of what happened that night as I snuck through the back door and raced up to my bedroom. My hair was in tangles and my face was flushed and sticky with drying sweat. My hands trembled in my pockets. No one had asked me where I’d been, whether I was okay after my enraged outburst, or even noticed my return. I was completely and utterly invisible.

As soon as I reached my bedroom, I locked the door behind me, determined for not a soul to discover what had just happened. In the iridescent lamplight, my fingertips were caked with blood from digging my nails into the floor, rashes lining my sides from my expedition in the Nightmare’s grip. Wine colored splotches were scattered all across my neck.

“I am so fucked…”, I whispered to myself, holding my hair back as I inspected myself in the mirror. Then my body went completely still, movement catching the attention of my peripheral vision. A slow, sarcastic clap.

“Well done. I sincerely don’t think your parents will notice the aftermath with that new baby on the way”, a deep voice called from behind. Whipping around, it was that same white-haired boy from the bathroom, returned from his 2-week hiatus. Oh joy. This time, I was nowhere in the mood for his crass shenanigans.

“Who the fuck are you?! Get out of my house!”, I screamed at him, motioning towards the window. Somewhere deep inside me hoped he’d jump out and plummet to this death. Or maybe he’d get pushed.

That same annoying smirk spread across his pale face. “You know, I should be saying the same to you”. I opened my mouth to respond but his reply caught me off guard.

“W-what?! What the fuck are you talking about?”, I stammered as he approached me. It wasn’t until now that I realized how indecent I was, nothing but my bra and underwear hanging off my thin body. I refused to get raped again. Especially twice in one night. 

“I think you should get out of my house”, he said in a low, almost seductive murmur. He gripped an old shephard’s crook in his one hand and his other was lodged in his hoodie pocket. Strange icy tendrils jutted from it’s openings.

“You’re not making any sense”, I argued, shaking my head and creating space between us. “This house has been abandoned for years. The realtor website said so”

“Do you really believe everything you read on the internet?”, he questioned, leaning against his staff.

I rolled my eyes at his wit. “Do you really want me to call the cops on your sorry ass?”

The boy chuckled and the smirk returned to his face. “Ooh, feisty. I like feisty. Spices things up, don’t you think?”

His immaturity was burning my last nerve like lighted dynamite. My sanity was on the verge of explosion. “Are you gonna stand here and make remarks at me or do you have an actual purpose for pestering me?”, I fired back with sudden gumption.

The silver-haired boy shook his head as he twirled his staff up off the ground and over his shoulder, strolling closer to me. “No, no, I have my reasons.” Just then, he backed me up against the wall, his face just mere inches from mine as he answered in a low voice, “My purpose is to get you out of my house”.

It was from this standpoint that I could really absorb the minute details of his face. Not a scratch or scrape resided on his milky skin like the ghoulish figures I had seen so many nights before. Pale freckles dusted his cheeks and his eyes…something about his eyes. They were cobalt blue, some intricate design dancing around in his irises. He radiated frigidity.

Crossing my arms across my chest, I stared at him with as much sass as I could muster in my growing exhaustion. “Oh? And what makes you think my family and I are going to leave just because some lanky grandpa told us to?”

My insult obviously took him aback as he recoiled from his close proximity. “L-Lanky grandpa?! Do I look like a senior citizen to you?!”

A smirk now spread across my face, his reaction empowering me. “Well, with that white hair, you don’t exactly look like the fountain of youth”, I fired back.

Rolling his eyes, I could see the frustration bubbling up from within him. “Listen, snowflake, get out of my house or you will suffer the consequences.” And with that, he turned on the ball of his foot to walk away. But unlike him, I wasn’t finished yet.

“Oh really? And what if I don’t?! What are you gonna do?! Whack me to death with your old man stick?!”, I shouted after him. He paused dead in his tracks and turned back at me with narrowed eyes.

“Listen, pointless”, he began as he started back towards me, his knuckles turning even whiter in the strength of his grip on his staff. “I’m not planning on wasting my energy killing you but if that’s what it takes to shut your sarcastic little mouth up, then help me God, so be it. But all the strange shit that’s happened so far? That is just the tip of the iceberg. You have absolutely no idea what these creatures are capable of so if you want to keep your skin, I suggest you do as I tell you and get the fuck out or else they will not hesitate to come after you, rape the fuck out of you, and murder you alive, then mount your dismembered carcass on the wall like some sort of hunting trophy. In my opinion, you’re much too pretty to be mangled wall furnishings. So you better run, Violet Amelia Parr, or else I’ll do it for you. Do I make myself clear?”

My eyes widened from the intensity of his spiel but I tried not to show my utter shock at his promises. And how the hell did he know my full name, let alone my real name, in the first place? Had he been stalking me? My mind flashed back to that whore grinding on my dad so many weeks prior, her silky white hair falling down her back in a cascading waterfall. White hair. Just like this intense stranger. Had they had some sort of connection? Was he one of them? My brain wouldn’t shut up as this boy eyed me, awaiting my answer. In a strained voice, I croaked the only word I could muster. “Crystal.”

Without another word, the boy nodded once in approval and then completely disappeared from sight. There was no doubt I was all alone now. I slid down my bedroom wall and without a second thought, buried my face in my knees and broke down into insane, heavy-hearted tears.


	5. 4

Unmistakable insomnia poked fun at my exhaustion as I found myself unconsciously grazing the rashes and scrapes adorning my body. That Nightmare was all I saw each time I closed my eyes, like a shadowy phantom creating perpetual hell. Medication called to me like a beacon in the fog. The rough sleeping pills sliding down my throat gifted me the respite I needed.

Four obnoxious beeps, loud and drawn-out, wrestled me from my slumber. I made sure to take extra precautions in setting my alarm much earlier that morning in order to allow adequate time for hiding the visual remains of last night’s sexual frenzy. Each scrape, scar, hickey, and rash had to be perfectly concealed.

I uttered not a word that morning to anyone, especially my family, as I grabbed a bagel and walked to school. The cooler breezes blasted my hair back, threatening to expose my battle scars, as I approached adolescent prison.

The droning voice of my biology teacher shipped me to my imaginary horror land as my crossed eyes transfixed themselves on the translucent green fluid in the beaker before me. Koz was still absent. I fought back the trembling building up in my hands from worry and anxiety. I missed him. I needed him. He was the only person who truly seemed to give a damn about me. I needed someone to give a damn about me. I didn’t even give a damn about me.

My ears perked up as a few choice words flowed from Mr. Chabotsky’s mouth: “assign lab partners”. As if my stomach wasn’t already knotted enough. My eyes involuntarily scanned the room as I absorbed the features of every person within my view. Stereotypical copies. I was surrounded by stereotypical copies, like the human printer broke and spurted out thirty two of the same faces. My body sank into my seat.

“Vi, you’ll be paired with Thea”, Mr. Chabotsky spoke, his voice monotone. Thea. Of course. Despite how unique her name seemed, it gave off the same air as everyone else’s name. Popular bitch.

Her light-footed steps bounded closer to me as she cheerfully seized my arm and lead me to our lab table. Despite my earlier convictions, though, she was much different than the preppy girls surrounding us. And she was unmistakably naturally beautiful.

Her tiny pigtails bounced as she bounded towards me, her short hair cut choppy and shining chocolate brown. Tropical streaks stained her shaggy, side-swept bangs. Her big eyes shone violet and glimmered in jewel tones in the sunlight, bright pink eyeshadow and long, luscious lashes adorning her lids. Her skin was naturally tanned and she possessed facial features harkening to that of southeast Asian countries. Golden yellow feathers dangled from her earlobes. Her bubbly personality perfectly contradicted my fractured psyche. Quite frankly, her happiness made me incredibly jealous.

Throughout the course of our lab, she eagerly offered to conduct the experiment, obviously intrigued by the scientific nature of our class. She was definitely talkative. Through just the twenty minutes I had spent with her, she had revealed that she preferred her nickname Tooth to her real name because of her love for dentistry and hoped one day to become a dentist with her own practice. Her consistent blabbering provided me relief in that I didn’t need to supply information about myself. My thoughts on my personal being could fill up a note card and a six page children’s book simultaneously.

As the two of us rushed to clean our station, Tooth quickly finished her portion and grinned over at me while she hoisted her turquoise tote bag onto her shoulder. It’s sequins glimmered just like her eyes. “Hey, you should sit with my friends and I at lunch. We’d love to have you. If you don’t already have a place to sit, that is”, she offered kindly as she handed our lab report in to our teacher. Something about her smile radiated genuine care, but my answer still remained reluctant.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll consider it”, I responded as I lifted my backpack off my chair and rushed to my next class.

The rest of the day until lunch remained a dreary repetition of zone-out sessions racked by the traumatic memories of last night’s occurrences. Someone doesn’t exactly get over being raped in one night, after all. A tingling sensation radiating up from my fingers fed me such an urge to sleuth out this mystery man, to uncover the father of my unborn sibling, as well as the person who stole away my virginity. One has a right to know.

Today the lunch bell presented great, unexpected relief as I awkwardly ventured to the cafeteria. I never bothered stepping inside for I never had reason to but it’s architecture shrieked modernity. Along an orange-painted wall were numerous food establishments each offering varying genres of cuisine. The rest of the walls, excluding those adjacent to hallways, were nothing but crystal clear windows taunting us with the landscape of freedom. The entire place reminded me of the food court at the mall back home, and my stomach churned in depression.

Clutching the tearing strap of backpack close, I scanned the room to try and find Tooth, her brightly colored facade blending in well with the vivid atmosphere. As soon as she spied me, though, Tooth rose from her seat and waved me over eagerly. She sat amongst a group of strange men, very different in appearance, at a table nearly central in the cafeteria. We were flanked by people on all sides.

Tooth gleefully patted the empty seat beside her. “I saved a spot for you! Right next to me. So that way you wouldn’t feel too awkward around my friends”.

I just nodded in response and hesitantly took my seat. There were three very different men and I recognized the majority of them as exchange students. One, who Tooth said was named Nick, was burly and incredibly masculine, seemingly unaware of his own strength but with kind intentions. On one side of Nick was an Australian guy with what seemed almost a dull black hair color and botanical tattoos skating up his buff arms, apparently named Ed, and a squat young man whose sun-kissed face beamed friendliness, though he never uttered a word. The three of them continued to carry on long after Tooth’s brief introduction of this gloomy newcomer, fighting over food and playfully wrestling about with each other. Their conversations were loud and opinionated and often included a few dry, suggestive puns I didn’t quite catch onto. All the while, I sat there feeling utterly uncomfortable nibbling at my food. My space behind the orchids in the courtyard seemed so inviting, like it was calling my name from the doorway, but I didn’t dare rise from my seat for fear of attracting attention to myself. Attention was the last thing I wanted. The only attention I craved was from Koz.

“What’s that?”, Tooth asked curiously, shaking me from my daydreams. My heart pounded as I slowly looked over to her.

“W-w-what’s what…?”, I responded.

Tooth reached out and pushed the rest of my hair back over my shoulder and inspected the deep purple splotches on my neck. “Are those…hickeys?”, she asked with a small smirk. My chest exploded, my eyes widening as I pulled the curtain of black locks back over to cascade down my flat chest.

“N-no, they’re, um…they’re popped vessels, I, uh…I hurt myself playing sports…yeah”, I lied. My voice quivered with uncertainty in my words– they could tell it was a cover story. Ed smirked and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, mate, you’re a worse liar than a turkey on judgment day. Whose the fella, anyways?”, he questioned. His interest in my personal life filled with me vague insanity. I shook my head worriedly. I felt my ass scoot further and further over the back of my seat. All eyes on me until…

“Hey, hey! Settle down! If she doesn’t wanna speak, she doesn’t have to. Right, Vi?”, Tooth said reassuringly, giving a quick wink at me just as the dismissal bell rang. Sweet freedom. I nodded once and gave an uneasy smile before rising from my seat and darting off to sixth period. The queasiness in my stomach was enough to make me puke.

I don’t know why, but for some reason I kept drawing back to Tooth’s table in the following days. Koz was still gone and the spot behind the orchids just didn’t seem the same without him. As the days passed, though, I suddenly found myself growing more comfortable amongst Tooth and her friend’s quarreling atmosphere. Not enough to speak around them, no, but enough to enjoy being the audience to their comical skits. Sandy, the mute, seemed the most welcoming of the four, though every so often I’d glance over and find him falling asleep into his sandwich. Something about being in the presence of their little ragtag group, though, made the circumstances of my non-scholastic situations seem less serious. It was a small comfort that I took advantage of and eventually guarded close.

The following Thursday brought with it great enthusiasm for the upcoming weekend and for even the slightest second I felt vaguely happy about something. Bus rides had become a distant memory as I took to walking to and from school instead, though that afternoon I was greeted with the most pleasant of surprises.

Squinting my eyes, a tall, lean creature, a young man, was keeled over in his front law, a shovel with what looked to be bright red rust stains laying beside him and an egg carton of newborn orchids flanked on his other side. His skin was pale and his black hair was carelessly spiked upwards. I recognized him immediately.

“Koz!”. With a grin on my face, I dropped my bag and ran towards him, not even processing my actions as I wrapped my frail arms around him in a tight embrace. He chuckled softly at my antics and moved away to better see me. “Where were you? You’ve been gone for weeks! I was so worried!”, I rambled. I hardly noticed the heat rising in my cheeks.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, I’ve been fine. I was off in Anchorage helping my father– he had a heart attack a few weeks ago and I had no choice but to fly out”, he explained as he leaned down to pick up his dirty shovel. It’s red stains seemed stranger than they did from a distance, not quite rust but…..blood? My mind flashed back to that morning so many weeks ago, waking barely dressed outside with a shovel, I swore it was that very shovel, laying right beside me. The memory didn’t last long enough for me to fully analyze it and, writing it off as just some sort of strange parallel, I shooed away the rising nausea in my gut.

Koz made his way inside with his little carton of flowers and gardening utensils and motioned for me to follow. His words dawned a sudden realization in me as I followed him through the front door. His house was completely silent. “Wait, so…if your dad lives in Anchorage, then are your parents divorced? And where’s your mom now then?”

A solemn shake of the head fed me assumptions. “She died three years ago. I live alone. I only fly out to Anchorage when my dad really needs me. Other than that, it’s just me, myself, and I”. Though it wasn’t my fault, I found myself apologizing for his loss regardless and obeying his suggestion to make myself comfortable. For a teenager on his own, his house was gorgeous. Everything was fine black slate and spotless gold accents. Elegance.

Without a word, Koz shuffled through the ebony stained cabinets and fashioned two mugs of piping hot tea, delicious spices laced in their aromas. Handing me one, he made himself comfortable in the seat beside me. His living room was large and open and the dark decor seemed to resemble that of a maze. We didn’t turn the TV on nor did we listen to music, but we found solace in the murmur of our voices.

Somehow being in the presence of Koz’s own home made me feel more comfortable around him, my body growing less rigid and tense and my mind not so hooked on self consciousness. I noticed myself studying his minute details, like a shadowy birthmark on the leftmost side of the nape of his neck and the way the tendons jutted from his neck when he spoke of things he was passionate of. He told of how this house was issued to him in his mother’s will and that he had grown up here, of how his father was a wealthy military man who moved around to various sectors of the country and would often bring back precious knickknacks when Koz was younger. There was something comforting about hearing of his childhood, of how passionate he seemed for his family. It was as if he would do anything for them.

I hadn’t realized how late I had stayed with Koz until the sun had completely faded behind the horizon and the sky was veiled in the black of night. Kindly enough, Koz offered to drive me home in his sleek, black sports car which, apparently, was a birthday gift from his father the previous month. It’s engine ran quietly as it’s low body sped across the tarred roads. Beside Koz and his luxurious possessions, something about the feel of it made me feel like I was a queen. I had never felt that way beside anyone before. It was confidence boosting, and I began craving the feeling for always.

My body was reluctant to exit the passenger seat as we arrived back to my home. It’s rotting exterior was dumpster garbage compared to Koz’s wealthy riches and frankly I felt quite embarrassed to have such lowly possessions compared to him. He didn’t seem to mind though. As I finally urged myself to move, a cold hand gently held me back and I glanced back at Koz with surprise.

“K-Koz, what are you doing?” I whispered softly in shock as I motioned to my house. He just smiled a crooked smile and drew me back into the passenger seat.

“Just hang on a moment. There’s one more thing I want to do before you leave”, he whispered. His voice was gravely when low and it sent a tingle down my spine. Slowly leaning forward over the middle console, his cold hand cupped the side of my face and hesitantly, ever so gently, he leaned in and planted his lips on mine. My heart skipped a beat in shock as I felt my fingers intertwine in his, but then quickly pulled away as an electric spark shocked my lips, and not a pleasant one.

“I-I really should go”, I whispered as I scrambled out of the car, clutching my school bag close to my chest. My feet stumbled over each other as I ran back into the house. Koz gave one simple wave before driving off back home. I said not a word to anyone about anything as I darted up to the attic. My mind was whirling.

His tender kiss was both equal parts pleasure and pain, some aspect of it making my hands tremble and my heart rate speed. Was this what happened when you had your first real kiss? Were these strange symptoms normal? Flopping back onto my bed, I pondered an explanation until my brain exhausted itself into slumber.

The next morning I awoke strangely happy and whether it was in regards to Koz’s kiss, which haunted my dreams with abnormal happiness, or the coming of a wondrous Friday, I didn’t know. All I knew was that school was transforming into a fantastic place after all.

Every so often throughout class, I caught those mesmerizing silvery eyes glancing over my way and giving a small smirk of flirtation all throughout biology and I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks inflame. Though something about our affectionate exchanges seemed to drive a nail through Tooth’s skull as she eyed the two of us with caution. As the bell signaled the end of class, she darted from the room without a single word.

Once lunchtime rolled around, I suggested Koz join me at my now-usual table amongst Tooth and the guys. At the time, my enthusiasm blindfolded me with ignorance at the villainous smirk spreading across Koz’s face as I dragged him towards the group. Nick and Ed didn’t bicker like usual, Tooth kept herself reserved, and Sandy shook slightly as he secretively ate his food. Koz sat bolt upright like he owned the table. There was a certain aura surrounding him that was unfamiliar to me, a sort of dictator role I had never before seen in him. It was as if he felt…powerful. Like he was telepathically oppressing the rest of the group. Everyone but myself. Maybe it’s just his wealthy standpoint shining through, I finally deduced.

The rest of the day Koz snuck smiles at me in the halls and Tooth and the guys kept at bay, like I was suddenly some sort of criminal. By the end of the day, I made no hesitation to approach them at the bike racks.

“Vi! Oh, um, we weren’t expecting to see you out here”, Tooth exclaimed in over-exaggerated surprise at my arrival. I rolled my eyes at her faux naivete.  
“Cut the crap, Tooth. There’s something you guys aren’t telling me. You’re being insanely distant, like I’ve committed some sort of fucking crime”, I told, crossing my arms. Tooth’s shoulders dropped and she heaved a sigh.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. How about we all meet up at your house this weekend and hang out over pizza and soda?”, she offered. I could tell her utmost ambition was getting off the subject but I didn’t pressure it. I agreed to her suggestion and silently headed home.

That next day, my parents seemed surprised by the news that I was having friends over, but Mom seemed pleasantly joyful and encouraging of my new-found allies.

“Let’s hope these aren’t imaginary friends like before or they’ll come back with a straight jacket for you, Vi!”, Dash teased as he tossed his finished homework into his backpack. With a feisty expression back at him, I thwacked the back of his head and made a beeline for the living room. They were due for arrival any minute.

Tooth seemed immensely intrigued by the ironically shitty mansion, exaggerating the bucket list quality of the place. “I’ve been wanting to step foot in here since I was six!”, she exclaimed, studying every moldy feature. Nick, Ed, and Sandy seemed less amused, keeping as far from the dirt-clad elements as possible.

Leading them up to the attic, I constantly found myself apologizing for the state of our new home– we had moved in over a month ago and renovations were still unfinished. The quartet apparently didn’t seem to mind much, though. Especially Tooth. But I didn’t expect to find a bigger matter to apologize for once we reached the top of the stairs.

Lounging on my bed was none other than that same white-haired boy, his wooden staff leaning against the wall as a sassy expression spread across his face. “Well, I was wondering when you’d get back here. And you brought company, too. How great”, he said with a slight chuckle, bounding up from his spot. I grimaced at his guff. Firstly, what the hell made him think he had the right to barge into my private quarters? And secondly, how the hell did he keep coming into my house in the first place? I couldn’t deduce any logical explanations.

Despite my counteraction at his will to stay, he smirked at my friends and walked right past me like I was invisible. Eying him, I noticed out of the corner of my eye how red Tooth’s cheeks had grown.

“I don’t believe we’ve met yet”, the boy said with a flirtatious smirk as he approached her. Tooth covered her mouth as she released an annoyingly adorable giggle.

“I don’t believe we have”, she responded. Something about the way they spoke fed me strange implications that they had met before, no matter how impossible the theory seemed.

“The name’s Frost. Jack Frost”, the boy replied. So he did have a name then. No wonder winter came early, and he’s left icy remains in his wake. Tooth’s blush deepened as she introduced herself back. The two of them went at their merry little flirtatious ways for minutes on end until I felt a lump of anger rise in my throat. What made Tooth think she could just come into my house and start flirting with the unwanted guests? Of course, I knew exactly why she was being flirted with. She was no doubt naturally beautiful. But despite all the friction between Jack and I thus far and the quickly escalating relationship between Koz and I, something about this affectionate exchange between the two of them instilled in me a great, unavoidable jealousy. My gut churned with disgust.

When the two lovebirds finally broke up their flirtatious conversing, the six of us– yes, six– made ourselves comfortable on the floor and began our afternoon of recreation. No matter how forcefully I tried to extinguish Jack’s presence, he refused to leave and, like I should’ve expected, Tooth shook her head and giggled that she didn’t mind. The other guys seemed to quietly approve of their forward exchanges.

It was through that afternoon that I discovered how unexpectedly superstitious Tooth was. Tarot cards, a Ouija board, and other mystical equipment spilled from her bag and she made no hesitation in giving all of us the full treatment. The tarot cards seemed the most nauseatingly interesting aspect of her bag of tricks. It was Jack’s reading that struck the most curiosity in me. Pulling three cards from the deck, it was as if they read life backwards.

“Your past”, Tooth began, “was riddled with traumatic death”. In the center of the group sat the first card, pivoted to face Jack. It’s image depicted a valiant knight aboard a white steed riding nobly towards a bishop. “You’ve undergone great spiritual changes as a result of this, Jack”, Tooth continued. Then came the second card, the Hermit. “You question your existence, Jack. You want to know why you experience the same routine day in and day out, you’re tired of routine. You need to find your purpose”. Tooth spoke these words softer than before, as if to ease Jack’s mind or show empathy with his supposedly troubled soul. Her expression changed immensely at his third card, though, and a smirk spread across his pale face. “In your future, though, I see a great love come your way. Very passionate. Very real.” I held back a gag at her soft-spoken explanation, eyeing her as the two of them seemed to slowly close the space between them. Just as their faces were invading each others’ personal space, Tooth’s eyes widened and her face grew red as she realized the two of them weren’t alone and she returned to her work.

My cards drawn seemed fairly simple. The Fool came first, signifying how innocent I was in my youth. Of course that part was deemed nothing but true. Following it came the Moon, whose meanings bewildered me greatly. “The moon signifies that things are not always as they seem. Something harmless in the light of day can grow dangerous and sinister when masked by the night. Uncovering it is a journey all your own and you must complete it…before it’s too late”, Tooth explained in appropriate drama. Her words didn’t feed me the slightest bit of reprieve, though. Instead, it made me fearful and self conscious. Masked by the night…those words sent my brain whirling into a flashback of that Nightmare, of that night at the beach when I was stolen of my virginity by the same man who impregnated my mother. Before it’s too late. I didn’t want to believe it, but my gut whispered silently that it must be the epitome of the end, that if this masked rapist isn’t uncovered and uncovered fast, he’ll surely be the ultimate death of us. Maybe Jack was right when he urged my family and I to leave. Maybe it’s already too late.

The third card drawn was the Nine of Cups, which was a strange, stupid little card all about “getting what you want in the coming days” and shit. I scoffed at Tooth’s explanation and drew my knees up to my chest as a safeguard for my doubt. Paired with the other two, very accurately drawn cards, this last one seemed to make absolutely no sense. How could I get what I wanted when I didn’t even know what it was that I wanted in the first place?

As the afternoon progressed into night, I found myself staring at the cards curiously, trying to decipher their connection, that last one’s truth, what the point of such a stupid little game was in the first place. For the rest of the time spent amongst “friends”, I found myself growing more and more distant to their company as Jack seemed to steal the show. Him and Tooth were completely enthralled by each other, laughing together and falling all over each other gayly. It was like watching one of those sappy love movies. I shouldn’t have been jealous, I had my own romantic escalations, but I couldn’t help feeling jealous. There was something too perfect about the image of them together that made their pairing sickeningly sweet, like being force-fed sugar sticks on a stomachache.

By the time everyone dispersed and headed back home, Tooth was saying goodbye with a huge hug for Jack and a simple, dismissive wave for me. I paid no expense at trying to close the door quietly.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”, were the first words to spill from my mouth as soon as I turned to Jack. He looked at me curiously, pausing right in the middle of walking away to head upstairs.

“What do you mean?”, he questioned, straightening his stance a bit. I rolled my eyes at his innocence.

“You know what I’m talking about. You think you have the right to barge right into my private company and make yourself the life of the party”, I said angrily as I shoved past him back up to the attic.

Jack’s eyes widened and he laughed in disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself? I barged in?! You were the one who came prancing along with your dysfunctional family into my house!”

Turning around right in front of him on the stairs, I found our faces were so close our noses were barely touching. “If it’s your house then why was it for sale?! If you want to keep people locked out so much, why don’t you try locking the door?!”

“Are we really having this same fucking argument over again?!”, Jack shouted as I turned to dart back up the stairs. He made no hesitations in following me.

“I don’t even know why you’re here to argue with me in the first place!”, I screamed. Apparently this remark hurt him more than I expected for he recoiled soon after and stared at me in disbelief.

“I can’t fucking believe you. Apparently I don’t know why I’m here, either! Believe me!”, he yelled back, rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie to reveal the many straight-edge scars lining his arms. Their color was extremely faint against Jack’s alabaster skin. I wasn’t expecting him to reveal such personal scars and, appropriately, I was taken aback myself.

“W-where did you get those?”, I stammered.

“Where do you think?”, he said back as he shoved past me back up the stairs. “I have absolutely no reason to still be here. I’ve wandered for too long without a purpose and I can’t handle the pain anymore but no matter what I try, nothing ever works”, he said in a softer tone. I cautiously followed him back into the attic.

“But sooner or later you’re gonna end up fatally injuring yourself and getting what you want. You know that, right?”, I said quietly. Jack turned to me with angry tears welling up in his eyes, lifting his fist almost as if to shoot a punch at me, but his tightened grip loosened with a small sigh after recognizing the sudden fear in my eyes.

“It’s impossible. Nothing works”, he admitted. With that, he silently flopped onto the edge of my bed. “I’ve been lonely for so long…”

I rolled my eyes and took a seat beside him. “How do you think I feel? There’s only one person in the world who gives a rat’s ass about me and they were gone for nearly three weeks. He’s the only person whose ever kissed me like that…” I felt my cheeks heat up again at the mention of that kiss, but my stomach churned at the remembrance of that electric shock.

Jack rolled his eyes and said with authority, “I’ve known the pain of loneliness far longer than you have, kid. Just because your vampire boyfriend is gone for a month doesn’t qualify you for being a depressed soul”.

“Excuse me?”, I fired back. Was he really questioning my own knowledge? I knew how I felt when Koz was gone. His absence drove me into insanity, and yet this white-haired stranger was trying to outdo me on what I know was true?

“Listen, I don’t care how much you love the guy, you’ve been with him for, what? Three days, tops? You both have nothing but puppy love in utero”, he said with an air of indifference that inflamed my veins.

“Puppy love?! Oh, and like you and Tooth’s romance is more evolved in five seconds!”, I fired back. Jack’s back stiffened and he glared at me.

“Is that why you’re so fucking angry?!” he shouted, marching back towards me and pinning me against the wall. “You don’t know anything, okay!”. My eyes narrowed up at him in a glare.

“How long have you known her for?”, I asked as calmly as I could, my voice quivering with rising fury.

“It’s none of your business”, Jack responded back, dropping his hold on me as he headed back to his staff.

“Is that why you’re so fucking angry?! Because I saw a girl and I liked her?! You don’t own me, Violet! You barely even fucking know me!”, he responded angrily.

“I know you enough to know that you would totally take advantage of a girl you thought was pretty! You wouldn’t even care about her, you’d just cast her off to the side once you were done fucking her and then forget she ever existed!”, I screamed. Jack rolled his eyes as he stood from the bed.

“That’s a stereotype and you know it! You have no idea how capable of love I am! You just wouldn’t know because you are so mind numbingly stupid all you can think about is your stupid social anxieties!”, he screamed back. Now I was feeling heated. If I wasn’t already angry enough, he felt like he knew me enough to declare his authority for judgement? My mind was racing alongside my heart as his insults fueled me.

“Maybe my social anxieties are not my fucking fault! You ever think about that?! Maybe they’re because I’m surrounded by imbeciles who can’t even fucking deduce the origin of their kid!”, I screamed. By now I didn’t even care if anyone downstairs could hear me. Something deep within me hoped maybe I’d even deafen the idiot.

“No wonder you feel so unwanted!”, Jack screamed back at me. Now we were circling each other in violent battle stances, as if we were lions preparing to pounce at our prey: each other.

“That’s irrelevant because you’re unwanted, too!”. My voice was beginning to grow hoarse from so much yelling, but I wasn’t prepared to back down.

Jack chuckled and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what Tooth seemed to think!”

“Well, Tooth isn’t here right now!”, I screamed back, forming fists so tight my nails almost broke the skin of my palms.

“That is what you’re so fucking pissed off about, isn’t it?! Because we were flirting with each other, right?! Because I saw a girl, I thought she was pretty, and I took the opportunity! Because I was flirting and it wasn’t with you!”, Jack screamed. I was coming undone. He was somehow cracking the code into my innermost thoughts.

His last sentence had me recoiling, though, pausing in my stance with wide eyes. “W-what…?”, I asked quietly.

Jack grimaced up at me as he pounced, pinning me against the floor. His breath was frigid and heavy, the aroma of wintergreen pouring from his thin lips. “You’re so fucking jealous because you want what everyone else has. Aren’t I right? You can’t handle the pain of other people’s happiness if you’re not happy, too”.

“That’s a lie and you know it”, I growled through gritted teeth. My body trembled beneath him in equal parts rage and misery. I didn’t want to accept the words pouring from his mouth had high probabilities of truth.

“And for the record, I would never take advantage of a girl like you so apparently think I would. You know nothing about me and have no right to judge me by stereotypical standards.”, he said in a low murmur. This time, I was unafraid of his pent-up rage. I didn’t squirm beneath his firm grip, nor did I feel frightful of his violent aura. I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted before the sound could exit my mouth. “I don’t even know why you care so much about whether I like her or not”

Now was my chance to speak. “I don’t know why you care so much about me leaving this house”. My words were croaked from my throat, a long claw scratching at my vocal cords. Jack shut his eyes tight and drew in a sharp breath, his grip on my shoulders tightening slightly just like that night those ghostly figures entered my room. He was the one there when I fell asleep, the familiar voice from the shadows. He slowly opened his eyes and jammed his forehead against mine so as to ensure our eyes met.

“I know what kind of people you hang out with, Violet. I might not always see it physically but I know. I’m only trying to fucking protect you”, he said with great tensity in his voice. His words should’ve filled me with great flattery but they only brought me more anger. They fueled a new boost of energy in me and I pushed him off of me and rose from the floor.

“Whoever said I was yours to protect? We don’t even know each other, remember?”. The words, despite how powerful I tried to speak them, eventually left my mouth sounding strangled and meaningless, but I no longer cared. Hoisting my bag off the ground, I gave him one last look. “You’re finally getting what you wished for. Don’t expect me to come back”.

And with one last, swift motion, I disappeared down the stairs and out the front door.


	6. 5

There’s always been something comforting about the gentle hand of another petting your hair as you cry into their shoulder. I couldn’t hold back tears any longer as soon as I slammed the door shut behind me and with blurred vision, I made a beeline for the first safe haven that arrived in my brain: Koz. His nurturing senses kicked in as soon as he opened the door and, without even a word of question, pulled me into a hug and guided me to the couch.

His embrace was cold but comforting, and he held me so close against his chest I was breathing in his cologne. It’s aroma was crisp and slightly musky, something dark and mysterious lurking within it. It brought me strange comfort. Involuntarily, I leaned deeper into his chest and settled into his crossed legs. My small frame fit perfectly in the cavities of his lean body and I eventually found myself encumbered in darkness in his embrace.

Greeted by the morning sun, it seemed as though I had forgotten where I fell asleep. Koz’s arms were still wrapped tight around my waist but he had slowly slunk down to lay on the couch with me effectively on top. His long legs were intertwined with mine and a shaggy black blanket was draped over us. Even in the morning light, the sleek interior of his home cast off a shadowy glow. I knew I had to get home. I knew my parents were worried sick. But I didn’t want to have to face Jack again. I knew from then on every time I saw him would bring the sickening reminder of that horrible fight we had, his callow charm intermingling with her bold disposition.

It wasn’t even worth all the yelling. He was right, we didn’t know each other and that gave us no reason to argue. I didn’t even know why I felt so threatened by the flirtations between him and Tooth in the first place. After all, they seem to fit together perfectly. But the fact he felt the need to protect me sent a twinge of curiosity through me. Did I really seem that weak? My jolt of energy last night seemed to contradict that theory. Regardless, his discombobulated thought process as to why my safety is so important to him remained a mystery I was much too eager to solve. I laid there wondering as I watched Koz’s chest softly rise and fall in peaceful slumber.

I wondered until he awoke, smiling softly at my presence. “Well, good morning sunshine. Nice to see the tears out of your eyes”, he said with a small chuckle as he affectionately brushed the hair from my face. He was so gentle. I opened my mouth to speak but found I had no voice, no doubt from all that screaming last night. But it was as if Koz knew straight away the problem and he rose and fixed me yet again another mug of piping hot tea. I could detect hints of honey this time. His kind affection foiled Jack’s immature behavior in a way that made me feel special, desirable, maybe even beautiful in Koz’s presence. It was like we were both the ink stains on the rainbow and knowing we were more alike than the alternate choice made me feel like I wasn’t quite so alone.

Despite this, though, for some reason there was still always this nagging feeling inside pestering me about Jack. What he might be doing, how he held up after such an argument, if anything regarding the way he feels toward me changed since then. I still couldn’t wrap my brain around his strange thinking, almost as if his mind was a maze and he had me lost in it. His face was permanently glued to my mind. But what was it about him that was making me so unnecessarily intrigued? Was it the fact that he was practically unavailable? Unattainable? Did I somehow have a kink for men who were already taken? That certainly didn’t explain Koz. The way he looked at me, the unmistakable love in his eyes, proved to me that he cared for nobody but me, that I was desirable to at least one person. And most importantly that in this sea of insanity I just so happened to be drowning in, he is no doubt the ship that rescued me from the choppy waters. It was right then and there that I couldn’t imagine myself with anybody but him. Maybe I even loved him. Either way, I knew right then and there that we were meant for each other, that we fit together like two missing puzzle pieces finally united in one momentary click. Click.

The tinkling of fine china submerged in a soapy sea wafted from the kitchen as Koz cleaned the remains of our tea from the sleek, silver teacups. My fingers grazed the black porcelain frames of the many photographs lining the shelving before the flat screen TV, black and white photos of unfamiliar faces.

“Enjoying yourself?”, Koz asked as he leaned in the doorway, ringing his hands dry with a towel. His abrupt interruption jolted me from my daze.

“Oh! Um, uh, yeah, I guess. Who, uh, who are these people?”, I questioned, motioning to the many pictures. He smirked wickedly as he stalked forward, going down the carefully arranged row of frames and explaining who was in each picture. There were photos of his mother, beautiful and graceful and mysterious, and his father who stood tall and fierce in military uniform.

“I plan to take after him in the navy”, Koz explained, a sad smile flashing across his face as he stared lovingly at his father. I wondered how much the man’s appearance had changed since then– the photograph was nearly 20 years old, for sure. As he continued, he pointed out illustration after illustration of other family members, his grandparents and cousins, but he trailed off right before reaching that last picture, two faces much different than those explained prior.

This one depicted a woman and infant child, both beautiful and smiling, their dispositions cheerier and less tense than the others. The woman had fair hair falling in ringlets about her face and bright eyes, a kind smile. She looked incredibly young, a few years older than myself. The baby in her arms had to have been a little less than a year old, a few dark curls falling in her face and wide eyes full of childish innocence, much like her mother (or who I assumed was her mother). She bore a strange, minute resemblance to Koz himself. By the time I turned to question Koz on the subject, he was already at the other end of the room.

A smile ran across his face as his hand laid gently on the spotless silver doorknob of one of the gargantuan French doors. “Vi, come here. There’s something I want to show you”, he said, his vow suddenly much lower than normal. My heart rate quickened, my voice stammering as I agreed and cautiously followed him through the doorway. We ended up outside, the noon sunlight blinding me as Koz gently took my hand and commanded me to close my eyes. I obeyed as he mimicked my eyes, leading my barefoot form down a cobblestone path with many twists and turns, the sunlight disappearing slightly from behind shielded eyes. My exposed skin was freezing, suddenly remembering the snow caked in the nooks and crannies of the path and congregating atop the grass. I silently prayed it wouldn’t be much longer. Then suddenly warm relief.

There was the quiet creak of a opening door as I Koz led me over the threshold by the small of my back, the door slamming shut behind us. I could sense the smile spread across his face as he whispered seductively into my ear, “Now…open your eyes”. I gasped as soon as my eyes fluttered open.

Beautiful, towering bouquets of black and blue and red flowers surrounded us, roses and orchids and lilies of the valleys and growing in harmony inside a glass-walled greenhouse. “Koz, this…this is absolutely beautiful”, I murmured. Gently, I ran my fingers over the baby-soft petals, their fragrances beautifully intoxicating.  
“You know, you could help me plant some if you’d like”, Koz offered with a smile. I couldn’t resist– there was a certain eagerness in his eyes that killed me. My head bobbed in agreement and my eyes followed him as he headed back towards a glass alcove at the other end of the room where an ebony toolbox stood. Meanwhile, I strolled down each aisle of beautiful flowers, absorbing their beauty.

Great, beautiful orchids in the very middle of the greenhouse beckoned me towards them, magnetizing. Koz planted and cared for them with such expertise, they looked as if they were pulled directly from House and Gardens magazine. I studied their perfect forms, from their beautiful petals all the way down to the base of their stems, but something poking up from the soil caught my attention. A strange cornice, squishy and mint green beneath it’s dirt-clad exterior poked up from a wide space between bouquets of orchids, increasing my curiosity further as I felt my nimble fingers paw at the compost atop it. A good few minutes later, the majority of this…thing was exposed. A box. A vintage-looking mint green shoebox, large enough to fit men’s size 12 shoes, or maybe a small birthday present. A mangy white ribbon hung from beneath the lid.

My hands shook as I reached out to lift the decomposing lid, my heart pounding in my chest. With a tense grasp, I ever so carefully lifted the lid until…

My breathing hitched. My stomach churned. My eyes stayed locked on the form inside the box, the contorted form of a decomposing body, cockroaches and worms eating away at baby fat and sliding through eye sockets. Sockets that once housed wide eyes full of childish innocence. A few frizzy, black curls fell about her scarred face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”, a familiar voice screamed with unfamiliar ferocity. A sharp gasp escaped my lips, time abruptly speeding forward as I dropped the lid back onto the box and concealed the infant corpse. Koz’s golden eyes were bright with fury as he approached me and grasped my wrist tight, his chest rising and falling intensely as his nostrils flared, his mouth turned downward in a scowl.

“I-I..I didn’t…I just…”, I tripped over my words and the fear that must’ve resided in my eyes quickly triggered the disappearance of his violence and his eyes dropped out of focus from mine.

“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all…”, Koz murmured, releasing his grasp on my wrist. An aura about him signaled me that it was time to roll up the sidewalks and go home.


	7. 6

Arms crossed tight against my chest, I focused on the soft pounding my sneakered feet against the sidewalk as I headed home. Every time I blinked the vision of that infant corpse flooded my mind, the vermin infesting her decomposing skin and dirt caked into her curls. My stomach churned in disgust. Jack was the last person I wanted to see upon my return but he was a much more tolerable choice than the alternative. Mom and Dad would’ve been worried about me, either way. All I wanted to do was just flop back into bed and try and erase every event from the past 48 hours until it was nothing but a fuzzy memory.

Fumbling with my house keys, a flash of yellow on the doorstep caught my eye and, upon further inspection, there was no mistaking it’s identity: the squashed petals of a canary yellow daisy. My frostbitten fingers trembled as I gingerly grasped the delicate florets, their nauseating aroma triggering flashbacks of a face, visions of a lost soul. Hand-me-down tuxedos, blaring music, and glitter. Miniscule bouquets pinned to black silk lapels. I shook my head as I rose and thrust the front door open with more force than originally intended.

Inside, the house held an unusual chatter, a familiar voice not heard daily. My mind raced as my nails dug through the soft petals still pressed into my palm. Dropping my coat onto the loveseat near the doorway, I slowly approached the kitchen, whose yellowed light dimly lit the hallway towards it. And then there he sat. Anthony Eli Rydinger. My knees buckled as I gasped in surprise.

He was as real as I remembered him, black turtleneck and broad smile– a grin almost like that of an advertisement model. In the two years since we had known each other, the faint makings of a beard had sprouted from his chin and cheeks and his rust-colored hair was chopped short and a bit of a haphazard mess nowadays. His sweet face blushed red as soon as his hazel eyes fell on me, every muscle within him tensing as he hesitantly stood to greet me. Mom’s flushed face sat on the other side of the table, slightly obscured by a towering bouquet of yellow daisies flourishing from a crystal vase.

“H-hi, Violet”, Tony stammered as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around me for a hug. The way it felt to be embraced by him broke a dam hindering a million and one sunny memories– picnics in Oakfeld Park turned food fight, losing our voices cheering together for Dash at his track meets, the way he’d wrap his arm around me in the movie theater. I didn’t want to remember him, but I did.

“W-what are you– what are you doing here?”, I questioned as he broke our hug. Every feature of his face was suddenly amplified in our proximity. Mom rose from her seat weakly and disappeared from the room with a faint smirk on her face in my peripheral vision. Tony rubbed the back of his neck shyly before answering.

“Well, I, um…I wanted to say how sorry I was”, he stammered, his eyes meeting mine in timid apology. For a moment I had almost forgotten what he could possibly be apologizing for but then, just as quickly as the lovely memories came, they were executed by the cruel remembrance of that horrible night, the sirens blaring and blinding us, the sea of white lab coats enveloping us. The unmistakable horror crossing Tony’s face that night as he fought his way through the crowd– it had haunted me for months following.

My mouth ran dry in speechlessness before I subtly edged away from him and shook my head.  
“No, no, don’t, um…don’t worry about it. You have every reason to still hate me”, I murmured. Though I was never sure whether he did, in fact, hate me after that night, the terror on his face and the way he isolated himself fed me to believe so in the least. I hadn’t been his girlfriend anymore. My family and I had transformed into strange monsters. Our stupid secret had snapped the wonderful relationship between my very first love and I. I didn’t want to hurt him like that again, but his face and all those memories gave me so much temptation to just give into his charm once more, to let him love me like he used to.

Tony nodded as he closed the space I had created between us, my back pressed against the wall as he softly caressed my cheek, his eyes not so shy to look into mine anymore. His voice poured from his lips in a soft whisper. “I don’t want to lose you again, Vi. I still love you”.

That was it. My heart had officially melted. For that one second, I felt myself dip back into the wonderful innocence of what we had together, the bright days and happy times. I was ready to be virtually his again. Our faces slowly grew closer and closer to one another as our eyes closed and our lips puckered, just barely meeting when a sudden tug inside me forced me to turn away.

Breathlessly, I whispered back, “No, Tony…th-things are different now…please…”. His scent was intoxicating but as soon as he reached the danger zone, another face rose in my mind: Koz. Last night, the way he held me close and let me cry into his chest, cared for me and fell asleep beneath me. The way he always knew. I couldn’t and dare not rekindle this past romance in a back-stabbing affair. Koz deserved better than that and I wasn’t one to cheat. But then again…

That same expression of pain crossed Tony’s face as he recoiled, dropping his gaze from mine. “Oh…I see…”, he mumbled, twiddling his fingers as if he wasn’t quite sure where to place his hands. My eyes shut tight as I groaned and flopped into the seat beside his.

“I-I’m so sorry, Tony, I just…things are a little bit complicated right now”, I tried to explain. If I revealed too much, it’d just validate our reputation as mental patients. If I said too little, I’d be shutting him out. He silently took the seat beside me as he watched my face with genuine concern. He was so sweet, the way he cared so much after all that I had done to him. His chivalry was consuming me whole.

“Then don’t worry about it”, he replied with a small smile. “Nobody said you had to try to untangle the knot in the necklace, right?”. I couldn’t help but giggle softly at his stupidly charming phrase. There were always these profound metaphors he would spew out in times of desperation. They were never puzzle solvers, no, but they were uplifting enough to eradicate a hefty amount of fear which would well up inside me.

From then on, there was no worrying about anything. Losing myself in Tony’s hazel eyes, he alleviated all my anxieties, both of us reminiscing for hours on end. A small sip of warm memories stolen from a platinum vault.

“Do you ever wish you could go back?”, he whispered, tracing circles into my shoulder with a gentle finger. The obnoxious whir of the rotating nightlight beside us drowned his voice out only slightly, it’s spherical exterior shining a plethora of tiny lights circling the ceiling. I released a breathy laugh as my eyes found him in the darkness.

“All the time. God, I fucking hate this whole eloping situation. If I didn’t have to leave in the first place, I never would’ve”, I confessed in a hushed voice before curling my slender body up against him. I could feel the carvings of faint muscles against his abdomen through his sweater– he must’ve exercised more often after I left. As I laid there against him, though, a sudden questioning rose within me. “Tony? Have you, um…have you dated anyone else after, erm…since I left?”

His eyes looked to me again as his muscles tensed once more. “Um…n-not exactly…a few dates here and there, maybe, but…but nothing serious”, he stated. The stammering in his reply decreased his credibility. My ten second glare began eating away at him but just as he was about to crack, a warm finger pressed against my lips. “Can we please not worry about anything like that tonight, though?”, he whispered. I felt the muscles in his chest begin to relax again as mine began to tense up. A desire began welling up in me to have him, every piece of him, right then in that moment, but that aspiration was also accompanied by agonizing fear, flashbacks of that night at the beach. I didn’t want to be taken advantage of again.

Despite that growing fear, Tony’s oncoming lips paused the build-up of worry as he tenderly pressed his mouth against mine, our lips moving in slightly off-beat synchronization with each other. I didn’t have time to worry, to think, to deduce what kind of effect this would have on me. My limbs just committed to the motions without my mind’s consent. And then he slowly climbed atop me, the warmth of his hands finding their way up my shirt, caressing my sides and sliding my blouse over my head. Then it was my pants, then my bra, then my underpants until the two of us were in a heated wrestling match completely naked upon my bed.

A tiny siren kept flashing in my head to stop, call it off, not to give in, shaky visions of that Nightmare raping me flashing in my brain but Tony’s long-awaited touch tore me in two. I didn’t think about if Jack had somehow appeared and was spying on us, or what Koz would think if he found out. I didn’t care if my parents downstairs could hear us, or even Dash. The only things racing through my mind were Tony and the Nightmare.

The difference between being fucked by someone you love and being raped by a stranger is immense. Tony’s touch was gentle and soft, his thrusts not as intense, almost as if he was lacking experience which, in all honesty, he probably was. Sickening as it was to think, though, somehow I felt as though that Nightmare sent more ecstasy through me than Tony ever did that night. I fell asleep wrapped in his arms, his chest heaving for breath as sweat ran down his back. We both simultaneously sunk into the dark abyss of slumber.

I’ll always remember that morning. October 30th and the air was clean. It felt strangely warmer than the previous days and there was a small befuddlement over whether Jack was still here or not. Of course he was here, though. He had nowhere else to be. When my eyes blinked awake that morning, Tony’s arms were no longer around me. The soft clatter of dishes and muffled conversation could be heard from the kitchen downstairs but a strange, high-pitched whine from the bathroom stirred me from my sleep further. With heavy eyes, I felt around the bed. Empty.

Thrusting myself up from the mattress, I absent-mindedly slipped a t-shirt and pair of underwear on before trudging towards the bathroom. Bright morning light filtered from beneath the door. I giggled a bit as I clutched the doorknob and slowly slid the door open, a cheery vision of Tony standing at the sink brushing his teeth and humming showtunes filling my brain. Of course, my expectations were foiled once again.

A strange black sand was caked all into the grout of the floor tiling and against the porcelain of the sink. Blood stains were smeared across the eggshell walls and countertop and, written in blood on the mirror was a message:

“Flowers belong in the ground. You’re next, Violet Amelia Parr”.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as my fingers tenderly grazed the dried blood. I stood there in astonishment for a few moments until the reflection of something caught my eye and, slowly turning towards the bathtub, I willed my fingers to grasp the shower curtain and pull back…

With my hands clasped over my mouth, I stumbled backwards into the towel rack, the plastic bar biting into my upper back as my eyes tried to absorb everything laid out in front of me. A literal blood bath, the crimson substance almost overflowing onto the floor, and within it’s red sea floated an all too familiar body, completely nude with his face buried in the murky water. Floating around him were the dissected organs which had been sliced from inside his body: lanky intestines and flabby kidneys among other things. I didn’t even need t flip this corpse over to know that this body belonged to none other than Anthony Eli Rydinger.

Gasping for air, a soft noise to my left startled me and triggered me to turn towards the doorway. Jack peered inside and winced at the scene. “Ooh, he didn’t go down easy, did he?”, he remarked. Bubbling with full-on rage, my fist swung at his forearm.  
“Shut the fuck up!”, I shouted at him as he stumbled back a few paces. Tears were welling up in my eyes and blurring my vision now, sobs constricting my stomach and threatened to choke my throat. The more I stared at Tony’s floating form, the more painful the scenario grew.

Jack leaned against the doorway as I stood there with my back pressed right against the wall like last night when Tony had tried to initiate our renewal. I shouldn’t have given in. I shouldn’t have let him kiss me, hold me, screw me. He should’ve never even come to Burgess in the first place. My eyes slowly shifted back to that message on the mirror, finally truly comprehending it’s meaning as my knees buckled and I fell to the cold, hard floor.

“I-I-I d-don’t want t-t-to die!”, I choked out through my hearty sobs, my eyes darting back and forth from the mirror to the bathtub now in lightning speed, almost as if I was possessed. I wrapped my arms around my stomach as a wave of incredible nausea filled me once again, forcing myself to swallow back the bile rising in my throat.

“It’s too late for that now”, Jack said in a low voice. I felt his cold presence float nearer to me as his hand extended out towards me but I whacked it away before he could touch me. He groaned in response and shook his head, his footsteps heading towards the doorway. “I told you you should’ve left while you had the chance”

Now there was a great fury building within me, an excruciating anger at his words that sent a jolt of energy through me as I bounced up from the floor and snatched his wrist with mighty grip. “You had no right to tell me what to do!”, I screamed at him, still troubled with misery matched with my angst.

He whipped around to face me and pinned me up against the wall, his cobalt eyes meeting mine three inches away. “How is everything suddenly my fault? Hmm?”, he demanded. He didn’t shout like I expected him to but instead, he spoke in deep, frustrated tones.

“I never said that”, I snarled back, writhing in his grip.

“You just don’t get it, do you?!”, Jack screamed, tightening his grip on me to halt my squirming. His voice lowered once again. “I’m only trying to keep you safe but you’re such an insubordinate little bitch you won’t take advice on what’s best for you!”

“Oh, and how do you know what’s best for me, Jack?”, I responded with a roll of my eyes. Jack pressed his clammy forehead against mine and cupped my face with one hand to keep me from turning away.

“Because…because I don’t want you to end up like me. Alone for eternity, without a purpose. Watching the world go by without even being noticed, being seen. I don’t want you to kill all opportunity for yourself”. His words suddenly executed all the anger and all the pain inside of me as he dropped his grip and disappeared down the end of the hallway. Though I still would never understand what made him so protective of me, there was something about the way he spoke that made me feel…different. Maybe it was the depression of seeing Tony so lifeless and dismembered but there was something in Jack that I had never seen in previous encounters. Something that made me very, very curious…


	8. 7

Foggy dusk light filtered through the horizontal blinds, patterning my fingers with shady stripes as my nails scratched at the linoleum tabletop. Tony’s lifeless face was all that reflected behind my closed lids every time I blinked– the blood splattered across his skin and his eyes wide with terror. He was never meant to die. Not now, anyways.

My head snapped up from my ponderings as the volumes of heavy footsteps came nearer, Mom’s bloated form approaching me and sliding into the chair beside me. In the past couple weeks, she had gained numerous pounds, a small bump protruding from beneath her shirt. Her wan face had grown slightly chubbier but her eyes were so sunken in, they were framed with dark, ghoulish shadows.

“How you holding up, sweetheart?”, she cooed as she brushed the hair away from my face. It was always falling in a curtain over my eyes. I just shook my head in response and edged a few inches away from her. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone or anything. Unfortunately, Helen Parr was never good at reading subtle signals. Shifting to support her head with her hands, she stared off out through the window and smiled softly. “It’s a beautiful morning”.

Her efforts at making conversation were less than amusing, rolling my eyes and mumbling “What’s so beautiful about it?”. I wish she would’ve just understood I wanted to be left alone– the last thing I wanted was to explode all over her but her undesired company lit the quickly burning dynamite of my last nerves.

Heaving a sigh, she ran a varicose hand through her messy auburn hair, which had quickly lost it’s luster, and shifted her focus back towards me. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m sorry that this had to happen– I really wish there was something I could do to make any of this better– but there’s no way to change what’s happened and I think it’d be best if we just accept the fact that Tony’s dead”. Dead. That last word lingered on, echoed in my ears, prodded at the bubble of sanity that was speedily diminishing around my chaotic brain. Propelling myself backwards from the table, the dynamite exploded.

With a loud clash, my chair tumbled back onto the ground, my hands grasping the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip. “You don’t fucking understand, do you?! What? You think all this is some kind of joke?! You can’t keep going on like this whole hell charade is just some sort of fancy-prancy game, because it’s not! This is real life and it’s not going to get any easier! People– innocent people– are-are-are being raped! And-and murdered! And harassed! And you’re just going about your business like none of this is affecting you?! Bullshit, mom! Fucking bullshit!”. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as my already sore voice strained itself to scream. Even her large, hurt eyes didn’t will me to stop as I shook my head once more then stormed off down into the basement, knocking over a glass jar of paprika on my way out. I left mom to clean up the sea of rusty powder.

By now, there was a perpetual lack in fucks given as I pounded down the steps two, maybe even three at a time. I didn’t bother counting. Despite my boiling rage, my clumsiness still showed through bright and clear as my feet tangled in each other and I fell face-first onto the cold, hard cement, blood dripping from my lip as my teeth punctured the soft skin.

“You ought to be more careful”, a deep voice spoke from the corner of the room and, curiously, I lifted my head to find none other than a flustered Jack lounging near the unlit furnace. I swear, he must’ve thought I was so pathetic upon realizing how shitty I looked. Forcing myself up off the ground, I made my best attempts to look stronger than I felt.

“Wh-what’s it–augh!”, I started before stumbling back down onto the floor. A pain shot up my leg as soon as I applied body weight. In an instant Jack darted forwards in attempt to catch me but I brushed off his help– why he was suddenly being so gentle and helpful to me was a mystery all it’s own. Scooting away from his grasp, I collapsed onto a dirty shag carpet in the middle of the room with a hearty sigh.

Unlike my mother, I felt fortunate that Jack could at least read when I genuinely wanted space, recoiling back into his corner and watching me in nervous silence. It wasn’t until I studied his ragtag man cave that I realized the stack of periodicals he tried to hide. “What’s that?”

As soon as the words slipped from my mouth, Jack’s eyes widened and he dove on top of the magazine stack as if he was a football player tackling his victim. I couldn’t help but release a laugh at his ridiculous reaction as I slowly scooted a bit closer and attempted to peer past him. “Listen, it’s not like I’m gonna tattle-tale on you for having the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated or some shit like that. I honestly don’t give a fuck. But your enthusiasm to hide your stash only makes me more curious”, I explained. Jack’s shoulders dropped and through his thin lips he heaved a sigh as he slowly fixed himself into an upright position.

“I don’t think I trust you. You seem a lot like the type to lie through her teeth, you know”, he responded with a small smirk. Though his voice sounded genuinely mistrusting in me, his facial expression communicated otherwise as he cautiously reached behind him and pulled a worn-out magazine from the middle of his stack, it’s cover blurred from multiple water stains though I could tell it was clearly outdated. “Alright, I’ll start you off with the mild stuff.”

Gingerly accepting the booklet, I flipped through the pages to find a multitude of half-naked men groping each other, kissing and biting each other’s skin, gripping each other in barely secluded beach showers. My face blushed slightly but a small smile spread across my lips. “This is nothing. Hit me harder.”

A split-second of shock crossed Jack’s face before a small smirk rose once again, twisting around to dig through his inventory as I tossed the mild magazine to the side. For some reason, I hadn’t really noticed him until then, with his body contorted like some sort of pretzel stick. I mean, I had noticed his presence but I hadn’t necessarily noticed…him. Like, as a human being with a personality and a history and a physical presence other than just being there. He was tall and lanky and I could see the small of his back peeking out from under the hem of his cobalt hoodie. His naked feet were kicked upwards and his brown skinny jeans were caked with dirt and shards of ice along the bottom. He had a pretty fine ass, too. I continued studying his body until the realization of how criminal this was blinked in my brain and I willed myself to look away. If Koz knew what I had been thinking, what I had done the past couple days. The vulgar thoughts and affairs I had committed. There is no possible excuse for my irrational, unholy behavior. Of course, then again, burying dead children in your greenhouse isn’t exactly holy action, either.

Just as my thoughts were beginning to envelope me in a sea of insanity, Jack twisted back around and tossed two new paper nuggets into my lap, these littered with black censor bars and muscular skin. “Here, check these out”, Jack added, locking his eyes on me for a moment before scouring for something for himself, as well. A grin spread across my face as I scanned page after page of x-rated image, varying pairs of men humping each other in every sex position imaginable, sucking each other’s dicks, and groping each other seductively.

“Fuck, this is some pretty hot shit”, I murmured as I continued immersing myself in the pictures.

I caught a smile spread across Jack’s face as he finally found a suitable periodical and he replied in an equally low murmur, “Totally”. For some reason, I detected a sense of harmony between us in this moment. There was no threatening worries regarding external love interests, no arguing or differences of opinions. Everything was calm and melodic and serene. Just two people reading gay porn together in a basement.

But maybe we weren’t just two people reading gay porn together in a basement. Obviously, there was some sort of strange interconnection between his purpose, even if he claims not to have one, and mine. And maybe even Koz’s and Tooth’s and the rest of the ragtag gang at school. There was just some sort of strange electricity, like a hotwire, tying us all together in this weird, messed-up setting. Maybe we were just gathered like cattle in line for the slaughter. After everything experienced in this shitty town, it seemed like a legitimate prediction. There was something in Jack, though– something I hadn’t yet seen in him until that morning– that made me even more curious about his background: why he was here and what this presence of his signified. Lately I’ve gotten the impression that he’s meant for more than just to be a thorn in my side. He was so eager to get me out of here not necessarily because he disliked me but because for some reason he seemed to want me safe. He knew this place was a hellhole and he tried to warn me, yet I was so stubborn I didn’t listen. Maybe I should’ve. Maybe if I did, my mother wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, neither of us would’ve gotten raped, and Tony would still be alive. Either way, just like mom had said, there’s no way to change what’s happened and it’s probably best to just accept the fact that everything’s gone to shit. Yeah, maybe that is probably best. Maybe.


	9. 8

The blare of sirens continued to wail down the street well into midnight as police clogged the roads and invaded the house. Caution tape was laced across the entire upper floors as I ventured out into the chaos, the hallways swarming with strangers.  
“What the fuck is going on?”, I questioned as I finally found my parents in the living room. A stout woman with glasses and a clipboard sat across from them on the couch beside a police officer, both taking records of what little information my parents had to offer. Unfortunately, my question wasn’t the main concern.

Mom jolted up as fast as she could, waddling to my side and cupping my face in her clammy hands. “Oh, Violet, your lip! It’s bleeding!”, she shrieked before leading me into the kitchen to clean me up. No matter how old I was, she always treated me like a child who must be taken care of as such. Regarding my confusion, I didn’t have time to receive an answer. Observing the police officers crowded in the kitchen, though, I deduced that I wouldn’t have gotten a fantastic answer, regardless. They all stood around conversing the obvious and devouring our snack food, showing the most disgusting disinterest I had ever seen in any sector of law enforcement. No matter how little they cared about this case, though, their presence made me tense, triggering flashbacks to that night with the flames, the lab coats, the white vans and the crowds. Instead, I attempted to focus my attention on the damp paper towel dabbed at my lips.

As soon as she was finished tending to my wounds, Mom disappeared like lightning back to her place on the couch. The woman sitting across from her was speedily scribbling down whatever information she could– I overheard her questioning them about our relationship to the deceased child and asking about contact information for his parents. Reminiscing our time together, even I hadn’t remembered his parents well. They stayed fairly secluded from their son’s life and never had much to say to me, either. In a way, their distance was somewhat of a relief but in this context, it comes across as unnerving and creepy. Was it really freedom they were providing for their son, or did they not care enough to pay attention to him? My stomach churned at the thought of possible neglect.

After many minutes of sitting there staring off into space while diving into my thoughts, I finally realized how discomforting my presence was to the officers surrounding me, some watching me with a suspicious eye, and I quickly escaped to the backyard for solace. It was a strange yard, indeed, seeing as I hadn’t often stepped into it. The patches of grass poking up from beneath the snow were dry and dying and the moss hung from the bare trees almost as if they were solemnly weeping in desperate quiet. I was surprised to find Dash outside, though, swinging on the rotting tire swing and, strangely, talking to…himself, perhaps? He didn’t notice my presence until I approached him and he quickly silenced himself, almost as if he was in the middle of divulging some great secret that nobody but the oxygen was permitted to know.

“Who are you talking to?”, I asked as he gazed up at me suspiciously. He shook his head as if he hadn’t the slightest clue what I was talking about.

“I wasn’t talking. You must’ve just been imagining things again. You better watch out, Violet, or they might call the asylum on you again!”, he teased before bounding down onto the ground and running back towards the house. His jest fed me nothing but anger and frustration. It was almost as if nothing about this day did anything but trigger bad memories. With one hefty huff, I sunk back into the hole of the tire swing and rocked back and forth in time to the breeze.

“Why don’t they care…?”, I whispered to myself as I watched the cops through the kitchen window. It was almost as if they were having a Superbowl party in there, carrying on like they were off duty.

“Because they don’t”, a deep voice called again from behind me. Tilting my head back, Jack stood behind me with a dour expression painting his face, his eyes locked on the window. “They’ve had so many calls to this house, they’ve just lost the urge to give a fuck”. His words ate away at my curiosity as I turned in my seat to get a better view of him.

“What do you mean? There have been other murders here?”, I investigated. Jack nodded once before hopping up onto the stone wall behind us and finally looking down at me. His once playful eyes were stone hard and serious. I leaned forward slightly in an effort to request more information.

“You shouldn’t learn too much, Violet. You could end up hurting yourself in the end”, he revealed quietly. I shook my head in protest.

“I’ve already been hurt plenty of times. What’s another battle wound?”, I mumbled. For some reason my words sent a pang of fury through Jack as he hopped down from his perch and grabbed my arm, forcefully pushing my sleeve up to reveal the many self-harm scars lining my arms.

“That! That’s what’s another battle wound! Stop being so indifferent towards yourself! Your well-being is just as important as everyone else’s, you know”, he said in a fit of short-lived rage. A small tingle shot up my arm at his cold touch and, as soon as he realized what he had done, instantly dropped my arm and took a seat back on the ledge, running his nimble fingers through his hair with a sigh. “You should’ve left when you had the chance…”

Rolling my eyes, I shouted back at him, “Don’t you think I know that?! If I wasn’t so fucking stubborn, I would’ve left while I could! Actually, I never would’ve come here at all if I had my way! But I didn’t really have a choice, so it’s not my fault I got submerged into this underworld.” At first, I could sense the frustration beginning to bubble back up in Jack’s throat, but then it all suddenly evaporated and he looked at me with gentle curiosity.

“Wh-what do you mean it…it wasn’t your fault…?”, he asked softly. His eyes kept making contact with mine but only for split seconds before he dropped his gaze to my shirt collar, my ear, my twiddling fingers resting on the rotting rope’s base. Looking back at him with suspicion, I slowly began explaining myself for the first time in forever.

“My, um…my family and I aren’t exactly what you’d call…normal…”, I started, slow and quiet. Our background, our history, it was such a strange, mangled tale, it was hard to put into words. A legend such as this was never fully told through spoken word before and part of the task made me feel completely naughty, like a little kid stealing extra cookies from the cookie jar. I continued on. “We’ve always been…different. Each of us. Most of us would think we belong in a mental hospital because of the things we do. But that’s the only way we know. The only thing we know to survive on. We’re like Bonnie and Clyde– we’ve always been on the run. We’ve got good intentions, certainly, but…”, I felt myself trail off for a moment, a lump rising in my throat. Jack had leaned forward in serious interest, his face now inches from mine. He was so close I could inhale his breath, the aroma of pine needles and wintergreen mints. It was…invigorating. I was beginning to lose my focus but I knew I had no choice but to continue. Just as I opened my mouth, though, we were suddenly interrupted by the crunch of footsteps on dead grass and light snow.

The rough rumble of a man clearing his throat shook me from my conversation and then a gravely voice willed me to turn about. “Excuse me, miss, but do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”. Glancing up at the figure, it was another one of those police officers from inside. There was something about him I didn’t exactly trust, whether it was his aviator sunglasses so spotless I could see my reflection in high definition or the satanic quality of his smile, I couldn’t pinpoint exactly which. For fear of oppression again, though, I didn’t dare disobey him.

He towered over me and investigated my every whim and action, all subjects from education to my relations with Tony. And just as he was finishing up, he asked the most heart-stopping question of all. “And what is your name again, Miss?”

My palms grew sweaty and I attempted to hide how wide my eyes had grown behind my curtain of hair as I mumbled in a low voice. “V-Vi…Vi Hawkins…”. Lying to a cop was the boundary to which I knew I was done for. I went completely limp as soon as the officer disappeared back inside the house, leaning my head against the tire swing and spinning back around to face Jack who, no doubt, was intrigued by my conversation with the man but as soon as I twisted back, Jack had completely disappeared.

By the time the police began filtering out of the house, it was nearly 3 in the morning. Mom had already shuffled off to bed, complaining of back cramps, and Dad was doing everything he could to stay awake. I, though, was perfectly fine. Just as I was cleaning the kitchen table of it’s reflective snack wrappers, I caught sight of that same officer who had questioned me earlier holding a quiet discussion with my father and my heart rate instantly bolted. I tried my best to pretend I hadn’t seen them as I compressed the plethora of garbage into the trash can but my eyes accidentally made contact with the two as the officer motioned me forwards. With great hesitance, I shuffled towards them.

“Miss…Hawkins”, the officer said suspiciously, glancing down at me from behind his sunglasses. For once, I caught sight of his eyes. They were brown, almost crimson, and there was a dark scar across his one eye. “Do you confess that everything you revealed to me in the backyard earlier is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

I shoved my now trembling hands into my back pockets as I glanced from the officer to my dad and then back to the officer. With a deep breath, I replied, “Absolutely”. Never had I felt more disgust with myself in my entire life. The officer then smirked devilishly at my father before, with lightning speed, he ripped out a pair of handcuffs and latched my hands together. “W-wait, what the fuck are you doing?!”, I protested as I squirmed in their grip. The metal bit into my wrists as the officer led me to the front door.

“We have enough evidence here to prove that you murdered Anthony Elias Rydinger, am I correct?”, the officer snarled as he attempted to shove me through the front door. His husky frame prohibited me from seeing anything past him, not even my own bulky father.

“No!”, I screamed back, tears rising from my eyes and a lump rising once more in my throat. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe. I thought Jack had said the cops no longer cared about murder cases in this household? That filthy fucking liar. I couldn’t believe that for one nanosecond I had trusted him. “I’m innocent! I swear! Don’t do this to me!”, I choked back. Visions of my life flashed before my eyes as the red and blue police lights blinded me in the darkness. It was April 15th all over again. The deja vu was slaughtering me. I was going to end up on death row.

“Wait, stop! She’s innocent!” a familiar voice screamed over the sirens as a black mass fought their way through the crowd. Everyone paused, myself included, as the figure revealed itself in the strobe lights. A sharp gasp escaped my lips.

“T-Tooth?!”


	10. 9

“She’s innocent. Let her go”, Tooth commanded. Standing behind her was a vicious Ed, his face plastered in a scowl. Tooth’s small hands took hold of my handcuffs, effectively pulling me towards her, as she scowled in silent demand for the keys. Despite how intimidating this tiny teenager looked, though, the stubborn officer wasn’t buying it.

“And what proof do you have, Twinkle Toes?”, he questioned mockingly. Tooth narrowed her eyes at him as she stood on tiptoes to enlarge herself.

“I came over to her house last night, we were studying for a biology test and she needed help with her science terms.”, Tooth explained. Her excuse still didn’t persuade the officer, who continued drilling her with questions for twenty entire minutes before he finally, surprisingly, gave in and broke off the cuffs. With a sharp gasp, I fell to my knees in tears overly grateful for my freedom, to which Tooth and Ed knelt down and comforted me in response.

“W-why would you do something l-like that, anyways?”, I stammered through my tears with a sniffle. The cold was beginning to eat away at my thin clothing as the crunch of snow beneath my dad’s steady footsteps approached us.

“Because, Vi, we heard what had happened through certain sources and felt like we had to come and check things out”, Tooth explained with a playful wink which all too soon reminded me of how scornful I was towards her and her flirtations with Jack. After all she had done for me, though, I couldn’t help but feel even a smidge of respect for her.  
With a rough cough, I nodded before two strong arms cradled me in a warm blanket and lift me up off the ground. My vision was beginning to grow blurry with exhaustion and I slowly drifted off into slumber, accompanied by the lullaby of police sirens.

~o~

By the time I had finally awoken, almost all the aftermath of the previous night had disappeared with the coming of sunlight, or from what I could see, at least. My head was pounding and my leg was in pain from my previous tumble down the stairs but the time flashing vermillion on my clock told me I had no more time to waste. The date was October 31st, Halloween, and I couldn’t afford missing anymore school. Hoisting myself up out of bed, I shuffled to the bathroom to find painkillers, biting my lip in an attempt to hold back a scream of pain, but found that apparently I wasn’t alone. Two strange men, one lanky and skeletal and the other husky with spiked red hair and freckles, were keeled over the bathtub with a large metal vat and large gardening shovels.

Their presence was no doubt shocking as I attempted to catch their attention but no amount of nonverbal taps and bangs caused them to turn towards me. Finally giving in, I croaked, “Erm, excuse me…?”. Finally, the two of them turned to face me with sinister smiles which triggered my recoiling against the wall.

“Oh, well hello dearie”, the lanky one cooed in an unpleasant voice, standing his shovel upright beside himself. Remnants of blood and muscle tissue hung from it’s metal blade.  
“We’ll be done in a second, you impatient little whore!”, the husky one complained as he continued shoveling what was left of Tony from the bathtub. My eyes had caught sight of a faded funeral parlor logo on the vat’s exterior and, uneasily, I snatched the closest pill bottle from the medicine cabinet and rushed downstairs in a fit of great pain.  
“Who the hell is in my bathroom?!”, I screamed breathlessly in a hoarse voice, diving into the nearest kitchen chair. Everything ached. Mom, Dad, and Dash were sitting at the table innocently eating their usual breakfast, shocked upon my abrupt presence.

“That’s Mr. Ego and Mr. Pine, from the funeral parlor. They’re here to collect Tony’s, erm…remains”, Dad explained bluntly. His attempt to side-step any gruesome terms in his explanation was only faintly amusing in my pained state. Upon noticing my tight grip on the bottle, Dad stood and grabbed a small glass of water for me to guzzle the pills down with. I took the cup graciously and did just that.

Dash’s guffaw caused us all to turn our attention to him as he smiled mischievously and said, “Funny, huh, how we’ve got real live gore on Halloween? We don’t even have to line the store’s pockets with the fake stuff!”

That was the last straw. As soon as the words flowed from Dash’s mouth, I was completely done with him. Without a warning, I groaned and dove across the table to attack him, his athletic body too quick as he slid out of my grasp. “Get back here, you ungrateful little shit!”, I screamed at him as I scrambled to grab hold of him.

“Oh, now I’ve gotta be tough!”, he screamed in mock terror as he darted around the room. Curse his flawless track record. He was unbeatable. After moments of attempted torture towards him (and many pleas for order and pleasance from the parentals), the pain in my leg gave way and I collapsed into the nearest chair, succumbing to Dash’s victory. “Yes! The unbeatable Dash wins again!”, he shouted as he jumped around the room.

Rolling my eyes, I stood from my spot at the table and mumbled, “Shut up, you little insect!” before hoisting my backpack onto one shoulder and disappearing from the house. My expectations of finding solace in school were nowhere near acceptable, though.

All day, everyone kept their distance from me save for Tooth, Ed, and Sandy. The rumors about my almost being arrested and the accusations of my guilt in the murder case floated over my head like poison gas and ran through the lips of strangers in the halls. I couldn’t stand their ignorance. And it was almost as if Koz had disappeared that day, as well. He was nowhere to be found in biology.

The substitute in fourth period English class gave us complete freedom in our doings that day so most huddled into predetermined cliques and had their own conversations regarding my dilemma but a simple tap on my shoulder shook me from my lonely misery. Standing behind me was none other than Sandy, his kind face feeding me vague comfort. He took the seat beside mine and even though he never uttered a word, provided much appreciated comfort in my depression. He was a fantastic listener and permitted me to spew my troubles into his lap in quiet murmurs. It was within those forty five long minutes that I felt truly connected to the adorably stout little mute and all the while, he didn’t doze off once like usual. Despite the toxic gossip which surrounded me, I left that class alongside Sandy feeling relieved and somewhat renewed of my debts. It was almost as if the little man was completely incapable of blaming anyone for anything. He just sat there innocently and listened. His chastity was almost infectious. He was just like that beach I had ventured to in times of dire need: both had most likely seen every corrupt thing under the sun and yet they still retained their beautiful purity.

Walking alongside the quiet little man to lunch, a newfound confidence enveloped me. Maybe it was the fumes of rancid cafeteria food or the life-sucking squid that had been pried from my flat chest but for the first time in a long time I felt…happy. And sitting amongst the little ragtag group of friends at the cafeteria table, for once I felt like less of an outcast, too. Or at least less of a lonely one. Even though I found myself relieved of most guilt, though, my previous therapy session ceased to hinder my wandering mind as my thoughts soon jumped back to the previous night with the sirens and the accusations, the handcuffs and Tooth’s heroism. And that little conversation with Jack in the backyard. Worry began increasing my heart rate as I began to theorize his motives, why he seemed so intrigued about my past in the first place. Predominantly I had just made peace with the assumption of innocent curiosity but the paranoia of this town began eating away at my insides. I was starting to grow suspicious over how trustworthy anyone in this town is.

Just as I began dozing off in thought, a sharp bang shook me from my daydreams. Chaos and panic everywhere, students flitting out of doors and underneath tables. Scanning the room, I finally spied the reason: there, in the main doorway, stood none other than the Nightmare. From this distance and in this lighting, I could see every single detail of his disguise: skin-tight black rubber and tiny scales like that of a dragon’s protruding from the spine, black combat boots, and a holster wrapped around his thin waist. His form was tall and lanky and I could see the villainous smirk he wore through the mask’s netting over his mouth.

For a moment, there was nothing but complete shock as my eyes remained locked on his body as he stalked forward, twirling a handgun in his nimble fingers. Then it was suddenly as if everything instantly sped up, a quick flashback to the words written in red on the bathroom mirror–

“Flowers belong in the ground. You’re next, Violet Amelia Parr”.

As quick as it came, the vision disappeared and suddenly there was nothing but blood and flesh. A quick bang, a sharp gasp, and then a painful shriek. It took me nearly five full seconds to comprehend exactly what had happened but I felt a lump rise high up in my throat once I did. There, laying across the table, was none other than Sandy.


	11. 10

Tooth’s amethyst eyes widened in shock as she shrieked in agony, diving across the tabletop from the opposite end to cradle Sandy in her arms. The Nightmare had disappeared as soon as the shot was fired, it seemed, and administrators rushed in from all entrances to survey the damage as ambulances flooded the parking lot outside. Without even thinking, Ed quickly snatched me by the arm and dragged me towards the hallway between two of the food stations, my limp body scraping the ground behind him as if I was a rag doll with no heartbeat. My knees buckled and I sank to the floor.

“You alright, sheila?”, Ed asked as he brushed my hair away from my face, now crouching before me. My entire body was trembling. My mind wasn’t sound enough to respond correctly.

“H-h-how…?”, was all I could manage to choke out. Ed smiled solemnly as he shifted in his spot in front of me.

“That devil thing in there? Well…it was aiming at you”, Ed explained. My heart completely stilled. Horrendous bile rose in my throat as my mind absorbed these words in full. He sacrificed himself…for me?, I pondered as I began hyperventilating. Ed continued to speak. “I don’t know what triggered it in him. I mean, Sandy was always a pretty selfless person but this…man, this was the most selfless thing the little mate ever did. I just hope Tooth’s alright”– here he glanced back over to the table. My eyes followed the same trail as his to find her hugging Sandy’s body close, blood drenching her purple shorts and the hem of her green striped t-shirt. “They were always pretty close”, Ed revealed. “Friends since kindergarten, if you can believe it. They were always hard workers, the two of ‘em. Now that he’s gone…”. His voice cracked and he shut his eyes tight, the reality of the matter finally setting in as he fell back to sit on the floor. Seeing the tears spill from his eyes triggered mine to fall as well as I silently scooted closer and curled up beside him, the two of us wrapping our arms around each other and leaning on each other like dependent little children. Because in that moment, we were all dependent little children. Dependent little orphans, even. Miserable with no one but each other to weep beside. No mommy or daddy to hold us tight in reassurance. We were all on our own. In perspective, though, have we ever really been truly united?

Everyone always says that time heals all wounds and maybe in an alternate universe, that much is true. But how can someone heal when all time gives them is more injuries? Leaning my forehead against my bedroom window, I let my mind drift off into a choppy sea of pondering. Everything had grown so painfully slow after the bullet penetrated. Tooth’s wails of grief were enough to spiral anyone into suicide, her tiny hands grasping his bloodstained shirt as the paramedics pried him away from her and onto a stretcher. His golden eyes still sat wide open, his mouth slightly agape, and there was just some helpless quality about him right then that would never fade from my brain. I wondered if he knew what he was doing, or if it was just an act of impulse. The fact my secrets died with him was a small comfort in the midst of the insanity. Nick held Tooth close in his buff arms as she dropped to the floor in absolute denial, both him and Ed kneeling down beside her in an attempt to comfort her pain. I, on the other hand, was completely numb.

Once the bulk of the chaos had dwindled, Nick hoisted Tooth’s dainty frame up into his arms, now drowsy and groggy from her episode, and promised to carry her home so she could get some rest. Nick laid a free finger to the side of his nose in Ed’s direction before disappearing from the room and the tall Australian turned to me with the hint of a scowl painted upon his face.

“Well, what do you want to do now, sheila?”, he asked straightforwardly. He had been so kind earlier but somehow his sweetness had turned sour amongst Tooth’s bitter shrieks. I couldn’t help but find it bewildering of how, after being so close with the little man for so long, that she didn’t shed a single tear. She only shrieked and shivered in disbelief. I wondered if she even could cry. I wondered to what degree of heartlessness ceasing to cry was deemed. In regards to Ed’s question, my mind scrambled for a legitimate answer for a moment before I looked up at him and commanded:

“Take me to Koz”.

The wind blew past the two of us as we weaved through the hefty cars on Ed’s motorcycle, a permanent scowl upon his face. Ever since I had mentioned Koz’s name, Ed had grown even more crabby in his disposition. Coming to a halt outside, Ed stood staring down at me and, with one quick glance to the house, said bluntly, “He won’t be there, you know”.  
With great suspicion, I stood so that I wouldn’t feel quite so short next to him and questioned, “How do you know? You don’t even know him.” Ed rolled his eyes as he twirled his keys between his fingers.

“Oh, believe me, mate. I know Koz a lot better than you do and to most people, this house isn’t even occupied”, Ed said bluntly before taking a seat back on his motorcycle and revving the engine. That last sentence sent a pang of intense curiosity all the way to the marrow in my bones.

“Not occupied…? Wait, what the fuck are you talking about? Ed?!”, I shouted.  
A smirk spread across his face and he called after me as he headed back down the road, “Figure it out yourself!”

“Figure it out yourself, heh”, I grumbled as I turned up the walk to Koz’s house. I needed to inform him of what had happened at lunch. His absence was less than reassuring and although him and the rest of the group weren’t necessarily friends, I knew he’d want to know regardless. The golden door knocker was slammed thrice. No answer. I peered around the edge of the house. Eerie emptiness. Maybe he went back to visit his dad again?, I asked myself upon remembering his lengthy trip to Alaska. With a defeated sigh, I turned back down the sidewalk and headed home. Obviously Ed was right, he wasn’t there. I only prayed his father was okay, that he wasn’t dying. If I had Koz’s cell phone number, I would’ve called him to reassure myself but for now, resorting to worries and worst case scenarios was the most I could do. As the sun began dipping into the horizon and children in costume began preparing for their night of candy-induced chaos, I swore I felt ominous eyes focus their vision on me from behind as I made a beeline for home but each time I whipped around to investigate, nobody was there. Any other time, I would’ve tolerated the paranoia but after today’s incidents, I wasn’t taking my chances. With a quick, deep breath, I weaved through parked cars and darted for the solace of home.


	12. 11

Obnoxious clangs and chatters wafted from the kitchen as I slipped through the front door, two deep voices intermingling with the familiar tones of my family. Carelessly tossing my backpack onto the couch, I edged my way towards the kitchen archway to find Ed and Nick sitting at the kitchen table conversing with my parents and Dash, who was already fully clothed in his Halloween costume: who else but the Flash?

A gentle smile spread across Nick’s lips as he spied me and motioned me forwards, to which I hesitantly obeyed and sat across from him. “What’s, um, er…is everything okay…?”, I stammered. Nick smiled at me but I could detect the tensity in his facial muscles.

“Vi, do you mind if we speak?…Alone?”, Nick offered, glancing towards the back stairway in the kitchen. I immediately understood what the two of them were getting at and nodded before guiding them up to my bedroom. To my surprise, we, once again, were not alone.

“How the fuck do you people keep finding your way in here?”, I demanded to know, spying Jack sitting beside a train wreck Tooth on the edge of my bed. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her compact form was rocking back and forth in numb hysteria. “What? Do you guys have some sort of strange tunnel connecting to my house or something? What the fuck?”. North placed a broad hand on my shoulder to quiet me and gently sat me down beside Tooth. I caught a glimpse of Jack’s tender hand rubbing circles on her back to ameliorate her misery and for a split-second, I felt the hint of a snarl reflect across my face.

“Vi, this…Nightmare…thing. You’ve seen him before, yes?”, Nick asked. I nodded sarcastically. Obviously, I had seen this beast before. My dad definitely didn’t have a high enough sperm count to fuck up my mom as quick as that thing did.

“You see, we need your help with a little…a little project we’re planning on performing”, Ed interrupted, leaning closer. The two of them were crouched on the floor in front of Jack, Tooth, and I. They obviously detected the suspicion glued to my face.

Nick regained his place in the conversation as he continued. “Obviously police want no part in finding identity of villain. But villain cannot go undiscovered, yes? So, we plan to rat him out ourselves!”. A hearty laugh escaped my lips. What made them believe they could track down the identity of a professional criminal like this Nightmare? He never left behind any fingerprints, there was no trace of DNA anywhere. He was absolutely unbeatable.

Just as the two of them were about to continue their plan to persuade me, the heavy footsteps of a pregnant woman found their way to my bedroom as she cautiously creaked the door open and peeked inside. “Vi, sweetheart? I know you’re busy but can you take Dash around the neighborhood for a few hours? I’m in no condition for it and your father’s busy with paperwork”. The hopefulness in her voice was all too amusing. Releasing a small puff of exasperated breath, I trudged towards the door and agreed to her request.

“I’ll deal with you guys tomorrow, okay? But for now, can you all just leave me alone?”, I requested as I shoved Tooth and the guys out the door. It wasn’t that I had no sympathy but being submerged about the dismal atmosphere of the situation was exhausting in itself. My stomach had already started churning as soon as that Nightmare thing was mentioned, flashing back to those innocent souls whose lives had been mercilessly extinguished and that black-rubbered beast feeling me up in the beach’s bathrooms.

Meanwhile downstairs, Dash zoomed about the living room like a human airplane, quick as lightning as he leaped over furniture and slid beneath end tables. “Alright Bart Allen, wrap it up”, I announced as I slung my worn sweater over my forearm and slid my cell phone into my pocket. Dash groaned for a moment before realizing this meant candy to where he bounded towards the door, grabbing his plastic pumpkin bucket on the way out. The disgusting aroma wafting from it’s inside triggered memories to a crisp Halloween night a decade prior. Drowning in a sea of chocolate wrappers, I had stuffed every ounce of candy into my mouth to the point where the flavor of chocolate was nauseating. Lacking discipline as I was, though, I shoved one last morsel past my lips in an attempt to savor a final bite but my stomach disagreed, instantly spewing my digested winnings into the nearest possible container: a brand new plastic pumpkin bucket. Though years had passed and the cheap black paint adorning it’s exterior was faded and chipped, the odor still rang strong. I mustered all my strength not to be bothered by it.

“Geez, don’t your parents ever wash those things? That probably has bacteria in it”, a voice jested from behind me and, turning around, it was none other than the usual nuisance.

“Oh my god, Jack, stop”, I pleaded, shielding my nose with the dark blue sleeve of my cardigan. He just chuckled before expertly twirling in front of me and strolling backwards. Show off. “What is your problem, anyways?”

Jack slammed his palm to his chest in mock pain with a sharp gasp. “Problem?”, he asked dramatically. “I have but no problem other than the sweet desire for your love!”  
His irony was a bigger annoyance than his current presence. “Cut the crap, frostbite. Are you, like, bipolar or something?”, I asked with narrowed eyes.

“What makes you think that?”, he responded. He didn’t even bother to peek over his shoulder every once in a while, almost as if he had invisible rearview mirrors or eyes in the back of his head. His certainty of not injuring himself increased my suspicions.

“I don’t get you, Jack. One minute you’re calling me a bitch and pinning me to the wall, and the next you’re offering me up guy-on-guy goodies and catching me when I fall! Is there some sort of memo I’m missing here or am I just that big an imbecile?”. My words must’ve caught Jack off guard for he paused in his promenade for a moment to ponder my statement at high speed. Then, as fast as lightning, he grasped my wrist and pulled me to the grassy space between two houses, patches of snow and sludge caked into the ground amongst the blades. I barely had time to protest.

Jack’s eyes flickered back and forth as he seemingly absorbed every crack, crevice, and detail of what little exposed flesh I was flaunting. “Listen, Violet, I’m a fairly complicated guy, alright? There are a gazillion and one facets of me and things I’ve seen that you can’t even begin to fathom the intensity of, things I’ve done that I’m not proud of. Do you know how hard that is? To have to live with yourself every day knowing the kinds of things you’ve done? The kind of mistakes you’ve made?”. A quick flash of the sirens and labcoats, of what happens when you say too much. I nodded acutely before he continued. “I’ve been around the block a few times, you know? And I’ve been alone for longer than you’d expect. Longer than you can imagine. But I assure you this, I am one of the most determined beings on the planet and when I say you better do something, you ought to trust me and obey, okay?”. Again, one small, simple nod.

“I just…I don’t understand why you even care so much…”, I stated in hushed tones. We were suddenly a lot closer than I expected, his face just inches from mine. He dropped his sapphire eyes from mine the instant the words poured from my mouth, and he opened his as if he was about to speak but no sound was produced. He stood there stumbling over his noises, trying to deduce the best possible way to explain himself to me, until he finally found the right formation of words to convey his thoughts. But the timer went off. It was too late. Just as the first syllable of sound escaped his gaping lips, my eyes widened in realization. “Dash!”

My heart pounded in a panic– Jack’s carelessness made me forget all about my baby brother and the need to monitor him. Though he was probably old enough to trick or treat by himself, I wasn’t about to take any chances referring to the recent happenings of this neighborhood. Stumbling over my feet, I darted straight into the street and scoured the crowd of children all draped in cheap fabric and glitter. The disgusting odor of vomit from the inside of the pumpkin bucket had completely disappeared and, along with it, so did my baby brother.


	13. 12

Adrenaline pumped through my veins at high speed, my hands beginning to tremble as I scoured the surrounding crowd once, twice, three times over. Nothing. Catching the soft sound of Jack’s footsteps behind me, I instantly whipped around and involuntarily began whacking him with my weak hands. “You! Fucking! Idiot!” I shouted, each word corresponding with a slap.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Quit it!”, he recoiled, trying to shield himself from the blows though they certainly weren’t strong enough to hurt him. That was always the problem with me: every time I got worked up, it was almost as if my fight or flight instinct sucked. Every time I tried to fight back, my adrenaline weakened my writhes and punches. After a few more quick thwacks, Jack grasped my wrists and leaned in close to me. His voice was low, almost inaudible. “You’re making a scene. Just stop.”

His words triggered yet another split-second flashback of that night so long ago and in my peripheral vision, I could detect eyes turning in my direction. Staring. I instantly shut up, giving an acute nod and slowly backing up from out of the crowd. Glancing over at Jack, I asked, “Okay, so what do we do now? There’s a million kids out here, it’s gonna be impossible to find him in time!”

Jack just simply shook his head. “No, it won’t. We’re gonna find him and everything’s gonna be fine, alright?”. His eyes shifted to gaze at me, a tiny, genuine smile flashing across his face– the first time I’ve ever seen one on him. It was only vaguely comforting.

“H-How do you know, though?”, I murmured, my voice starting to shake almost as badly as my hands were. With a stern face, Jack turned in front of me and gripped my shoulders.

“It will be. You have to believe in me”, he murmured back. This was the most sincerity I had ever seen protruding from his otherwise callow disposition and quite frankly, I liked it. It was refreshing. Not a moment quicker than the sincerity came, though, it disappeared and Jack’s hand wrapped around my wrist, dragging me through the sea of small children. He ran so fast, I could barely absorb the mass– it was nothing but a blur of color.

“Slow down!”, I complained. “How do you know he’s not around here and you’re going too fast for us to see?!”. Jack said not a word but scowled at me over his shoulder, placing a free finger to his lips to silently tell me to shut up. His grip tightened slightly as we continued barreling through, slicing through the crowd with so much ease it was almost as if we were invisible. Translucent, like ghosts. Finally, we reached a halt and I attempted to survey my surroundings while refocusing my vision.

At first glance, the street seemed unfamiliar, smaller hordes of older children dragging each other down the sidewalk and carrying on. Some were even about my age, dolled up in gorey special effects makeup and sexy short dresses that accentuated cleavage and revealed lace thongs. I felt a pang of disgust cross my face at the sight of it. “What are we even doing here? I don’t think Dash would be down here, you know…”, I stated as I turned to look back at Jack but he was too preoccupied. Following his gaze, I noticed a particular house that revealed the familiarity of the street instantly. Koz’s house.

It had absolutely no decorations nor trace of anyone being home, yet children were still deliberately heading up the front walk. I overheard a small congregation of thirteen year olds gushing about how it’s apparently the scariest house on the block. And I could see Jack slowly moving straight towards it. In a rush of panic, I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back towards me, recoiling towards the other end of the street. “Jack, I have a bad feeling about this”, I voiced. His sapphire eyes rolled and he smirked down at me.

“Hey, don’t worry. It can’t be any scarier than anything that’s happened so far since you got here. Come on, let’s just have a little fun instead”, he said, his hand now grasping my arm as he pulled me closer to the house. What am I so afraid of, anyways?, I began thinking as we came closer and closer. I mean, this is Koz’s house. I’ve been here before. I even spent the night here once. I never heard him say one thing about his thoughts on Halloween but whatever’s going on in that house can’t be that bad. I mean, Koz wouldn’t hurt a soul…

And then we were there. I squinted so as to help my eyes adjust, my one hand tightly gripping Jack’s arm. It was too dark, not a single light switched on. The only illumination provided came from the dim streetlights behind the trees. We were beneath the canopy, gravel beneath our feet as a light layer of snow caked onto the path’s edge and suddenly I knew exactly where we were going. It was almost as if I could feel the small stones dig into my feet through my sneakers. I wondered how Jack was handling it, finally recognizing that he was barefoot. Come to think of it, he was always barefoot. A smirk spread across his face as he peeked at me over his shoulder.

“Oh, come on. You’re not afraid of someone’s backyard, are you?”, he joked as he pulled me a bit closer. His skin was ice cold. I rolled my eyes in an attempt to remain cavalier though I was completely terrified– there was something increasingly eerie about this place now with the additional ominousness. An unsteady remembrance of that infant corpse in the shoebox flashed back into my mind, stilling my feet had it not been for Jack’s leading me.

Despite his leadership, I had to stop being his follower. Grasping his arm a bit tighter, I pulled him back and looked up at him with widened eyes. “J-Jack..please…just…I just want to find my brother”, I pleaded in stammered words. He released a sigh as he glanced back at the greenhouse at the end of the path and guided me towards the trees lining the gravel so we weren’t obstructing the walk for an oncoming group of teens.

“Yeah, well what if he’s in there? You won’t know until you look, you know”, he argued. He did have a point– I wouldn’t want to leave any stone unturned. It was then that I realized I was just wasting time and, mustering up what courage I had in me, I started alongside Jack back down the pathway towards that greenhouse. Brilliantly bright overheard lights draped in dark colored fabric illuminated the room, the strange light bouncing off the leaves of the orchids and roses. The room was almost completely vacant save for a few young teenagers boredly promenading between the aisles of plants.

“God, this blows. I thought Hector said this place was creepy. Fucking liar”, I heard one kid complain. Though the solace of the greenhouse was unexpected, I had to disagree that it’s out-of-place presence was most definitely creepy. My adrenaline pumped through my veins, anticipating something to break the tranquility at any moment. A nudge of my shoulder triggered a shriek.

“Hey, calm down! It’s just me!”, Jack responded, backing up a bit and raising his hands in surrender. I whacked him again.

“Don’t scare me like that!”, I scolded. Jack laughed a bit as he urgently motioned me closer. Hesitantly, I did as I was told as he placed his thin lips near my ear.  
“Look over toward that kid– that one that was complaining. He’s in a group, do you see him? Study that group, tell me what you see”, he ordered. Slowly glancing over at the threesome, I spied the shortest member of all. He was dressed up as none other than the Flash. My eyes lit up and, without a second thought, I dove beneath rows of flowers and towards the children, shouting Dash’s name until the kid in costume noticed me. I didn’t even care about the horrific expression across his face.

“Violet! What are you doing?! You’re embarrassing me in front of my friends!”, he complained. I rolled my eyes, glancing over at his “friends”. There was a boy, the one who complained, dressed as a vampire and a girl fairly shorter than bloodsucker dressed as a pirate, her long red hair done up in a million messy beaded braids draped over her shoulder.

“Dash, you shouldn’t have left me! What the hell were you even thinking?! You could’ve gotten killed or something!”, I shouted at him. I could literally feel our three witnesses wince. I didn’t give a damn– I was too worried about Dash to care about their reactions.

Dash rolled his eyes as his stubby arms folded across his costumed chest and over the peeling logo of his super suit. “Left you? You left me first!”, he argued. Taken aback, I searched the ground with my mouth slightly agape for some sort of legitimate answer. Recollecting earlier in the night, it was true. I had been the one to leave him. And it was all that stupid nuisances fault. I glared over at Jack, pointing at him in accusation.

“This is your fault, then! You were the one who dragged me away from him! He disappeared because of you!”, I screamed. Jack’s eyes widened in despair but I couldn’t care less, his pearly white teeth biting down on his lower lip. It was all his fault and he knew it. With a groan, I shook my head and turned back to the kids, two of which were staring at me like I belonged in a mental hospital. The girl’s face scrunched up in a contorted sneer of sick amusement, her nose wrinkling and her face stretching into a grin like that of the Grinch’s.

“Dash, your sister’s a lunatic!”, she cooed before erupting into a bout of ferocious giggles. She sounded like someone was strangling her. Growing with insane worry, I eyed Dash as if to silently command him to follow me home. Fighting a smile on his face, he agreed, saying goodbye to his friends and following me towards the door. His two friends chortled at my parental discipline before turning to head through a dark archway at the other end of the building.

“Alright, Jack, let’s get him ho–”, I started, turning to glance towards where he was standing. Nobody was there. The only trace of his presence left behind was a soft layer of frost on the smooth concrete floor. By that time, I didn’t even care where he ended up. I didn’t care at all.


	14. 13

I didn’t dare tell of Dash’s disappearance upon returning home. There was hardly anyone awake to tell, anyways. Nearly all the lights were off save for a few and the entire living room was completely vacant. Without a single word, I corralled Dash upstairs, still fully costumed, and straight into bed before climbing into bed myself. Through the thin bedroom door, I could hear mom and dad’s synchronized snores. Their midnight noise provided lullaby as I drifted off to sleep.

Come morning, I was awoken by a wetness spraying on my face I hadn’t quite expected. Creaking my eyes open, I squinted in it’s direction only to find it was pouring cold, wet snowdrops and I had slept with the window wide open. I never even opened the damn thing in the first place. Too tired to even worry about it, though, I rolled out of bed with a groan and headed downstairs, my baggy pajama pants swishing against my thin legs. The aroma of coffee wafted down the hallway along with groggy morning chatter. I entered the kitchen to find, once again, a solemn scene.

Dad stared down at his coffee as he meticulously stirred in the creamer, dark circles beneath his eyes. Mom’s chair was tilted back to give room for her stomach, which now looked like a small, half-filled balloon was plastered beneath her shirt. She held a half-eaten banana in one hand and boredly read the newspaper she had in the other. Dash leaned back in his chair and played with his pancakes.

“What’s going on?”, I asked as I took a seat at my usual place. A sharp gasp drew from each of their mouths as their heads shot up to look at me, almost as if they were in such a trance of misery they hadn’t noticed me until my voice broke the barriers. Suspicion painting my face, I stared at the three of them until one of them felt ready to answer.

“There was a, um…another accident last night…”, Dad started. Dash shifted uncomfortably in his seat, averting his eyes from the three of us.

“What kind…of accident?”, I asked carefully. Dash was rarely uncomfortable at breakfast time, or any mealtime for that matter. I mean, he was a carefree little boy. He didn’t have worries burdening him like his predecessors. His depressed manner worried me greatly. Mom shifted in her spot to interrupt.

“There was this haunted house last night, a couple kids went in and they never came out. Two of them were Dash’s friends. It was that vacant house on Grimly Street– you know, the one you pass everyday on your way to school?”, she explained. I had to cover my mouth to prohibit it from dropping open. That vacant house on Grimly Street. I knew the address all too well. I knew who lived there even better.

“If you ask me”, Dad added, “I don’t see why those kids would be so stupid as to go in there in the first place. Don’t they have any sense? I’ve heard that house has been abandoned for fifty-some years or so.” I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe.

“H-h-how…?”, was all I could say, speaking in quiet stammers. This marked four people killed within the past two days. That statistic was overwhelming and, even moreso, completely unacceptable. 

“They just said they were found dead. The news reporters didn’t release any information on how they passed”, Mom stated, putting her newspaper down. A black and white image of Koz’s house sat on the page beside half a paragraph of text. The two children’s school pictures were beneath it. How the newspaper people even got the information in there that quick was a mystery. The author’s name read Anton Ego.

The rest of the day was absolutely quiet. Dash stayed secluded in his room, Dad was at work, and Mom sat on the couch watching reruns of the Oprah show and eating vegetable flavored crackers. Outdoors reeked of Halloween aftermath: candy and kids.  
Leaning my forehead against the glass, I watched absentmindedly as the trucks barreled down the streets to salt the ice and clear the fresh snow. Meanwhile, my nimble fingers toyed with an old red ribbon from my quilt, it’s ends fraying with age. I didn’t even mind the chill of the glass against my bare shoulder. Soft footsteps slowly approached and they didn’t even falter my solidity.

“Where do they go?”

Jack seemed taken aback by my question, spying him as I turned my head to look at him. “W-what do you mean?”, he stammered quietly. The pain from my words last night was still present in his sapphire eyes but I didn’t even bother apologizing. I didn’t find reason to.

“Where do they go? Where do people go when they die?”, I repeated. Puzzled, Jack cautiously sat on the edge of my bed across from me, toying with the laces of his hoodie with one hand.

“W-why do you ask?”, he questioned, though he shook his head after he realized he already knew the answer. “What makes you think I know?”

I shrugged, draping my black striped skirt of my dress over my legs and staring back out at the window. I couldn’t even believe I was wearing a dress in the first place, let alone one that reached my ankles. I never wore dresses. But then again, I never knew so many people who had died, either. I guess Burgess was full of new things.

Jack shook his head and scooted a little closer to me, willing me to face him again. “No, I’m serious. I really want to know: what makes you think I know?”. His voice didn’t have the same sarcasm one would expect to hear tainting a question such as his, but instead it was full of genuine curiosity. He really did want to know.

Shrugging with a shake of my head, I replied, “I don’t know. Last night you said you had been around the block a few times, so I guess I just figured…I guess I just figured you were older and wiser and knew, I guess…”

Jack nodded, absorbing my answer and looking it over carefully as if he was an appraiser in a pawn shop trying to price a rare artifact, his eyes locked on his sable toned pants. Then he instantly looked up at me, scooting even closer, and peering at me with determination. “How old do you think I am?”

I couldn’t help but release a small laugh. “Why, are you offended by my insinuation? Like I said, that white hair and old man stick of yours doesn’t exactly make you come off as a kid.” Jack rolled his eyes at my joke and even he couldn’t help but smile a bit.  
“No, but I’m being serious. How old do you think I am? In all seriousness”, he responded.  
With a defeated sigh, I looked straight into his eyes, my head tilted slightly and replied, “Seventeen. You don’t have neck wrinkles. Most older guys have neck wrinkles”.  
“Do you like men with neck wrinkles?” Jack asked with a playful smile on his face. I could tell he was suddenly much more relaxed by now. I liked him better that way. I already had enough going on, I didn’t want to deal with the added stress of a fuddy-duddy.

“And what if I did? Would you feel threatened by my being aroused by older men?”, I joked back, wrinkling my nose at him playfully. Jack chuckled but then his happy face suddenly dropped as he focused on his pants once again. “Shit, what did I say?”

He simply shook his head. “It’s nothing, really”.

I scooted closer and shook his arm, the skirt of my dress tangling about my legs as I folded them beneath myself. “No, come on! Really, I want to know”, I pressed. Jack sighed and finally rose his gaze to meet mine and I suddenly recoiled upon detecting a sort of sorrow in them.

“Purgatory”, he simply said. His strange answer bewildered me as my face expressed my confusion. “Well, at least someplace like it”, he continued.

“What are you talking about?”, I questioned. Jack turned in his seat so that he was facing me better, his knees drawn up to his chest and his ass just barely on the edge of the bed.

“Your question. You asked me where people went when they died, and I answered. Purgatory”, he stated simply with a small wave of his hand. I nodded once– now I was the one absorbing answers. With this, Jack leaned back and rested his head against the foot board, folding his arms back behind his head and propping his feet up on my lumpy pillow. “You see, what happens is that the soul instantly gets sent to this sort of in-between place. You wait there for a really long while, just living there like you’re in a pretty big, Gothic village, while you await your judgment day, which pretty much determines whether you end up in heaven or hell. It’s a strange process and it’s not the most popular opinion regarding death but it’s annoying as hell, too. Only the best of the best, or the worst of the worst, get their verdict instantly. Other than that, you’re stuck down there for hundreds of years. Unless you’re not put to rest, that is. When you’re buried or cremated or whatever– when someone takes the initiative to take care of the body, you end up in the in-between place. When you’re left to rot…well, you’re stuck up here. In this hell hole. And even worse, you can’t remember anything from when you were alive. Almost as if death wipes out your internal memory card. Either death or the worms that eat your brains.”

Once he was finished explaining, he looked over at me with this stupid smile painted on his face. How the hell did he know all this shit about death and this “in-between place”, anyways? It was almost as if he had gone through the experience himself. Impatient for my response, he opened his mouth and added, “Not everyone can see those ghosts that are never put to rest, though. Some, if not most, can feel their presence but hardly anybody can see them except maybe a couple really good mediums and a few lucky ones.”

My mind was racing to absorb this new information, having great difficulty in comprehending this little tale of his. If what he said was true, did that mean everyone who had died– Tony, Sandy, the little children in the greenhouse– they had all been sent to some sort of Gothic village in some otherworldly dimension? His explanation was so bizarre, I could barely stand it. With a small laugh, I looked over at him, by now sitting back in the same spot as before with my knees drawn upwards, my charcoal skirt draped over my knobby legs. “You’re full of it.” Jack laughed at my response and shook his head, sitting up again. I wondered if all that sudden up and down made him lightheaded. Apparently not.

“Where on earth did you even find all that crap?”, I asked with a little laugh. “The Gothic village, the ghosts. It sounds like it’s from some sappy novel!” Deliria was beginning to seep in over this new-fangled lie he had created. The storyline was pure gold. Pure comedic gold. I almost would’ve thought Stephenie Meyer wrote it and slapped it on one of those vampire books.

“Experience”, Jack answered simply. There was that stupid smile again. His blunt behavior was starting to transform my amusement into anger, involuntarily rolling my eyes at his response. Before I could continue growing angry with him, though, his face grew stone-hard and serious as he scooted closer– a little too close for comfort– and gently cupped my face in his cold hands. They were cold, so cold, and his touch sent a shock down my spine. There was something very, very wrong about this. Gently leaning his forehead against mine, he completely locked me in. I had no use but to look him dead in the eyes– eyes that radiated seriousness. Then, in an extremely low, almost sultry voice, he murmured, “You’re one of the lucky ones”.

You’re one of the lucky ones. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Before I could muster up enough energy to ask him, he instantly released his grasp on my face and rose from the bed, heading towards the door. And even after he had disappeared from my sight, his low voice still echoed in my ears as I fought to find the strength in my throat to speak. You’re one of the lucky ones.


	15. 14

Insomnia riddled me senseless as I tossed and turned, those same six words echoing over and over again in my mind. You’re one of the lucky ones. The repetition was driving me insane. Upon finally falling asleep, though, the charade of that strange, in-between place never left my mind. I dreamed I ventured down there, down into that strange Gothic village. Everything was dark and colorless and strangely beautiful, like the movie set for some Tim Burton movie. There was no grass anywhere on the ground– just thick, black dirt that smelled of manure– and the houses were made of rotting wood. In the village square there were a multitude of shoppes– farmer’s markets and bazaars and a butcher and a baker– all situated around a single fountain whose water was a murky green and spat from broken pipelines all over the metal. The people who passed were pale and lifeless, almost as if all the oxygen had been sucked from their lungs. They dressed in dark, tattered clothing and slumped past the buildings absent-mindedly like they had each day before and would continue to do each day after. There was only one person whose disposition wasn’t as dreary as the rest of the town’s, though. A little girl, all too familiar looking, with a cheery, round face and bright brown eyes decorated with two little birthmarks beneath the one. A flashback to one of the first night’s in the Burgess house– I knew her face.

“Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!”, she sang with enough joy to make up for the rest of the town. As she skipped along toward the market, a basket in hand, I noticed a deep gash up her arm, still fresh, and deduced she was new here in this little Gothic town, a town in which I decided to fondly nickname Amidory. She continued to go along in the dirt until she reached the fountain, water spraying at her from one of the holes though she didn’t budge, and from the pocket of her dirty apron, she pulled a tiny, rusted coin. Edging closer, I peered down and could faintly see many of these rusted coins piling up on the fountain’s floor. The little girl held the coin close to her chest as she whispered something faint to herself– I could only catch a few words– and then toss the little penny into the water.

“Emma! Come along, dear! Time for supper!”, another familiar voice, this one soft and mature, called and the little girl came running, one of the coins flying from her basket and into the soil. As I took a seat on the damp edge of the fountain, I leaned down to inspect the little piece of currency. It was definitely copper, or at least originally it was, but had turned a bright sea foam green from age along every square inch. It’s surfaces were completely smooth, though, so there was no sign of where the coin could’ve originated from. Either way, it still kept my attention. As I studied it, I mentally tried to recount the faint words whispered from little Emma’s mouth, what her wish could’ve been. Something about mother…bother…brother, was it? And the word knack…no, pack…sack? Back? Jack.

It all hit me at once, the realization triggering a shriek and my flailing hands to fling the coin into the topmost basin of the fountain. I wish for my brother, Jack, to come back. The words were now clear as day. She had to have meant my Jack, the Jack that had been driving me crazy for the past two months. This ghostly figure who first informed me of this tiny, otherworldly town. That must be how he knew…

My alarm stirred me from my dreams all too soon, snapping me awake to greet the blinding morning light. It wasn’t snowing at all, like the previous mornings and afternoons, but I could still feel the frigid chill of the window’s glass pressed up against my bare back. Throughout the entire walk to school, I had to keep reminding myself that it was just a dream, that I hadn’t really traveled down to that dark purgatory land, and that Emma couldn’t have been real. For how could she? If this trip to Amidory was nothing but a figment of my imagination, some sort of sample pondering of the town due to excess worrying, then surely Emma was just a figment of my imagination, too. Just some ghostly figure conjured up from my subconscious using the familiar face of a little girl who I’d imagined seeing time and time again. Or maybe not…

A shriek escaped my lips as two cold hands clasped themselves over my eyes, a sultry voice whispered in my ear, “Guess who?”. I was taken aback by the surprise encounter at first until my brain registered who the voice belonged to.

“Koz!”, I shrieked with delight as I turned out of his grasp and wrapped my arms around him. His absence the past week or so had been nothing but unsettling but now that he was back, I finally felt calmer. His skin looked even danker than I remembered, though, and dark circles signaled he was tired. “Where were you? I’ve missed you so much! And you’ve missed so much!”, I told him, my voice faltering a bit at the end of my sentence. I didn’t want to think about Tony, Sandy, and those kids but they were such a vital part of the story that he’d missed, I didn’t dare at least lack mention of them.

Koz just shook his head and a small smile spread across his lips. “It’s a long story– I don’t have time for it now. But why don’t you come to my house tonight and I’ll explain everything. Does dinner sound alright?”, he offered. I couldn’t answer fast enough.

The rest of the day transformed into an unconscious blur as my mind ventured off into other places. It was almost as if, as soon as Koz had returned, every bad happening that had previously occurred melted into nothingness, like all of it no longer had any meaning whatsoever. The numbness was accompanied by a strange sense of nescience in which I was content with accepting. The soft hum of a familiar tune escaped my nose as I fastened a pair of ruby studs to my earlobes, my mind completely transfixed on dinner with Koz and Koz himself: his dark hair, his pale skin and gold, glimmering eyes. And his voice. His soft voice that was so proper and kind. He had such an air about him that made my spine tingle.

“I wouldn’t go if I were you”, a familiar voice spoke, interrupting my mindless daydreaming. Turning around in my seat, I found Jack leaning against my bedpost.

“And why not?”, I asked matter-of-factly, eying his crossed arms and casual posture. He had another one of those stupid smirks spread across his pale face and he scoffed at my question.

“What makes you think you can go and have dinner with this guy when just two days ago you could barely make it down his street?”, he questioned, coming closer. I rolled my eyes and slid a stack of red and black bangles onto my thin wrist.

“Because. That was a completely different situation. It was dark and it was Halloween. I was just faking it. For the sake of the kids”, I explained, turning my back towards him now. I fought to keep my back as straight as possible. A chuckle fell from Jack’s thin lips and he came even closer, now leaning his forearms onto the back of my vanity chair.

“You dirty liar”, he murmured, staring at my reflection from behind me. Once again, his casual air infuriated me. Whipping around to rise from my seat and shove him away, my eyes narrowed into a glare.

“Oh, really? I’m a liar? Well what about you, Mr. Purgatory?! And your stupid fairytales about death and the afterlife?! Hmm?! Whose the liar now?!”, I shouted at him. Tears of anger were welling up in my eyes now, for what true reason I was unsure, and to save myself from drowning in hysterics, I grabbed my small bag and headed for the door. I didn’t dare look back at Jack as I reached for the doorknob and murmured, “Now, if you’d excuse me, I have a date to attend so if you’d kindly just…just leave me alone.”

~o~

The lights up the walkway to Koz’s house released a warm glow as my index finger delicately pressed the doorbell. The sun was just setting and cast a beautiful, rosy shadow across everything the light touched. The night was beautiful.

Koz answered the door with a shy smile across his face and motioned me inside, the intense aroma of dark candles wafting through the halls. I could tell Koz went to a lot of trouble to put together such a sweet date for us and in that moment, I was very grateful for his vim. It was in such stark contrast to Jack’s bipolar emotions, the consistency in Koz’s chivalry was more than welcoming. Hanging my purse on a small, black coat hanger near the door, Koz lead me down the hall and escorted me to the dining room where there was a beautiful arrangement of black orchids in a vase at the center of the table surrounded by fine china and more dark candles. It was simply breathtaking, like the setup for a beautiful, Gothic banquet.

“Koz, this is absolutely beautiful. I don’t understand, though. Why so formal?”, I murmured, almost as if speaking any louder would ruin the tranquility of the atmosphere.

Koz just smiled and replied, “Well, I needed some way to apologize for my absence, right?”. All I found I could muster was a soft giggle. “Do you want to sit? Something to drink, perhaps?”, he asked. I nodded and followed him into the kitchen to find a drink for myself. He protested, wanting to serve me himself, but I refused to let him wait on me. I was always fairly independent and it didn’t feel comfortable having my date doing everything for me. Hopefully that wasn’t unorthodox for the occasion.

Gingerly taking one of the cabinet’s silver knobs in one hand, I began scouring through the wine cabinets for something scrumptious to drink. I might’ve been underage but so long as the police didn’t barge in and find me sipping wine at sixteen, I’d chug until I was drunk. Leaning down, I finally found a bottle that seemed appetizing– some sort of red wine that smelled fruity and sweet– but as I rose back up to pour myself a glass, a sharp pang of pain hit my forehead and my palm flew up to my hairline.

Koz’s eyes widened as he ran straight towards me, apologizing over and over again as he helped me sit up on the counter. “I’m sorry! That was my fault. I opened the cabinet and I didn’t see you there and…and…”, he continued. I just shook my head, rubbing the newly formed bump on my forehead.

“No, no. Don’t worry, it’s fine, really. It could’ve happened to anyone”, I said with a reassuring smile. Koz nodded once before going to the sleek refrigerator and pulling an ice pack out.

“I really am sorry, Vi. I didn’t mean to completely injure you”, he apologized again, carefully placing the bundle of ice to my forehead. The ice felt uncharacteristically warm, like the burn of a hot iron, but I shook off whatever worry that might’ve rose from the detail.

After the dull ache subsided, Koz poured a glass of wine for each of us and led me back out to the dining room, pulling my chair out for me with a polite smile before disappearing back into the kitchen to retrieve our food. I had rose from my spot to help but he insisted he bring everything out himself– he didn’t want me going off and getting myself hurt again and, considering the slight dizziness I felt upon standing, I really was in no place to protest.

Everything Koz carried out smelled fantastic and looked even more delicious. Most of it was exotic food but delicious just the same: some sort of new meat, probably something foreign like alpaca or Tasmanian devil, soaked and basted in a sweet-smelling sauce, a garnish the consistency of cranberry sauce, and what I believe Koz said was liver along with asparagus and mashed potatoes. I had never been one to fancy liver or asparagus much but the rest of the food– strange, new foods never before tasted– were absolutely mouthwatering.

“You know, I really do love having friends for dinner”, Koz said with a smile upon taking a sip of his wine. “Or even just acquaintances”.

I nodded in agreement, replying with a bite of my meat, “I’m not much of a people person, but I think inviting acquaintances for dinner is always a nice way to get to know someone. And spending time with friends is always great”.

A smirk spread across Koz’s face as he set his glass back down onto the ebony tablecloth. “Oh, definitely. Especially when it’s someone as delectable as you”, he complimented, his foot caressing mine beneath the table. Another small giggle escaped my lips as I took another bite of my meat– it had an interesting flavor, much like veal but incredibly sweet, and was slightly tough and stringy.

With a large gulp, I softly wiped my lips with my cloth napkin and asked, “What kind of meat is this, anyways? I’ve never had it before but it’s pretty good”.

Koz’s lips turned up into a vicious smile as he answered with as much tranquility as someone on sedatives, “Oh, well that’s ironic. I know you’ve definitely had this meat in your mouth before. It comes from a creature by the name of…oh, what was it? It was a strange name…oh, right! Tony Rydinger.”

With wide eyes, every single muscle in body paused. My stomach churned. My heart stopped beating. Surely I must be hearing him wrong. Maybe that blow to the head was affecting me more than I expected, or maybe after half a glass of wine I was already starting to feel tipsy. “W-what…?”, was all I could manage to say. If my limbs hadn’t been paralyzed, I would’ve scooted far from the table and away from the flesh sitting upon my plate.

“Anthony Eli Rydinger. Aged seventeen, medium build. Not a single trace of alcohol or nicotine in his blood stream– can’t imagine that from someone his age but my, was he a tough one to cook. It’s quite hard to get the smell of bleach from someone’s bathtub off a human”, Koz explained, scratching beneath his thumbnail with his other fingers before smiling up at me. It wasn’t until then that I realized how villainous his smile really was, how intimidating those upturned lips came off to be. Eying me, he slowly rose from his seat and came towards me. I hadn’t the strength to move. Twisting a single lock of my hair with a long finger, he knelt down and inhaled the scent. I had just shampooed before our date and I could tell he enjoyed the sweet aroma of pomegranate extract. Placing his lips right beside my ear, he whispered seductively, “You know, I’d quite like to taste you next. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a trip to the butcher’s block…” and with one swift movement, he seized me in his arms and everything became a complete blur.

Spots danced along my vision as I found my fight instinct weakening me once again, my arms twisted behind my back and grasped tightly by Koz’s strong grip. My life flashed before my eyes until a familiar voice shook me from my daydream and next thing I knew, everything flashed black before I found myself face-first on Koz’s dining room floor.

“Stay away from her!” the voice shouted and I mustered all my strength to turn in order to decipher the scene, gasping for breath and feeling tingles on every inch of my body. All I could make out were blurry masses of color but I spied a blob of white and blue fighting against the splotch of black. Then a large clang, shards of ceramic everywhere, and a tight hand gripping my wrist and dragging me away from the debris as sharp pieces of glass flew towards me, some piercing my skin.

“Violet! Stay with me!”, the voice screamed as I felt my limp body travel over the smooth wood floors, the threshold, the scratch of the cement. Incredibly dizzy, my fingers blindly pawed at the ground for some sort of imaginary pause button until blood clotted at their tips. After what felt like an eternity of being scraped against the sidewalk, we finally slowed down before I was lifted into the frigid embrace of two strong arms. “Violet! Come on! Stay with me! You’re gonna be okay! Just stay with me!”, the voice shouted at me, louder than before and cracking slightly, overwhelmed with emotion. I could barely make out the fuzzy shapes of a face– the sapphire eyes and the thin line for lips– and I reached my fingers up to touch his cold, alabaster cheek, clammy from the tears that dared to fall. The faint spots of blood from my fingertips left their trace on his skin.

“Y-you’re crying…”, I croaked with what little air was in my lungs. A small chuckle of relief and the head inches from mine nodded before drawing me in closer and tightening his embrace.

“Y-You’re gonna be fine. Yeah, you’re gonna be fine”, he murmured once again and with that, the rush of wind picked up again as the two of us sped down the street.


	16. 15

Blackness. Everything was dark and cruel and cold and silent. Shit. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead, I mentally murmured to myself. I couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t see anything. Nothing but a dark abyss swallowing up whatever light might’ve penetrated it. But then suddenly, miraculously, there was sound, a faint and distant clamoring and a soft murmuring of words I couldn’t quite decipher. And then came feeling, a whole mix of strange feelings. Of pain and comfort and a strange ache at the back of my head that sent my stomach churning more than it already had been.

“I think she’s coming to”, a soft voice mumbled just as something cold and clammy was placed on my forehead. Slowly, my eyelids fluttered open to a burst of bright light, a blur of faces. The musty smell of my bedroom in the attic filled my nose. Familiarity.

“W-what happened…?”, I croaked weakly, the words tearing at my throat much more brutally than I expected. One body backed away as another, more familiar face came a bit closer. Blue eyes.

“You don’t remember anything…?”, he asked. His voice was soft and clear, his facial features seeming softer and kinder than normal. I tried to shake my head no but I found my neck was too stiff. Closing my eyes, I tried to recollect anything from the previous night, any trace of what could’ve caused this pain and nausea. Taking a deep breath, I caught a whiff of a sour smell from beside my bed that rose the bile into my throat, rolling over and spilling my guts over the edge of my mattress. Creaking one eye open, apparently this wasn’t the first time, my eyes spying a bucket already half filled with my toxic spill.

Before rolling back over onto my back, I took a moment to absorb my surroundings. The room was dimly lit, as usual, the sky outside dark and cloudy. Tooth was seated on my vanity chair, half of her attention on some sort of chart taking up the majority of the table space. On the open floor nearby, Ed and Nick were completely enthralled with a plethora of papers spread out across the woodwork like a patchwork rug, blueprints and maps and notebook papers covered in minute scribbles. And then there was Jack. He leaned against the edge of the nightstand beside my bed as he kept his eyes locked intently on me, his face stone hard with concern. His lips twitched before he finally found the right formation of words to remind me of the previous night.

“Y-you got into a bit of a, um…a bit of an accident. With Koz”, he started. My eyes widened– with Koz? Impossible. Unless I did something stupid and Koz was trying to save me, Koz had nothing to do with this. He was perfectly harmless.

“You went to his house for dinner but…”, Tooth started but her voice trailed off, then silence. Ed and Nick weren’t even paying attention and Tooth and Jack didn’t seem to know what else to say. Shifting slightly in my spot, my brows knitted together as I tried to recollect whatever traumatic accident I seemed to have gotten tangled up in.

Candles. I remembered candles. And darkness, lots of darkness. Maybe dark colors? It had to have been dark colors. And something sweet, something that tasted so sweet and delicious, but strange at the same time. The taste filled my mouth once again but, though it was a pleasant taste, more bile rose into my throat, leaving behind the sting of stomach acid. A sinister smile– Koz’s sinister smile. And then it all came flooding back.

“You know, I’d quite like to taste you next. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a trip to the butcher’s block…”. His voice rang in my ears in echoes that sent my mind whirling. Cannibalism.

As the day progressed, I stayed there lying in bed absentmindedly drowning in worries. Ed and Nick continued mapping out their plans of action, murmuring disagreements, which lulled me in and out of consciousness. Every so often my fingers grazed the small scrapes across my skin from beneath the covers, shallow ditches in flesh. I could still hear the clattering of dishes ringing in my ears. I relived the awful memory in my dreams until snapping awake with a gasp to empty darkness. There was only one other person there in the room.

A cold hand rested on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me and it wasn’t until then that I realized how rapidly my heart was beating within my chest. Despite his attempts to calm me, his touch just increased the speed. “I had a bad dream…”, I whispered breathlessly. Jack just nodded once, knowingly, before shifting in his spot beside me. The room was pitch black save for the moonlight and our entourage had already left, probably hours prior. Jack had pulled my vanity chair over by my bedside to monitor me in my sleep which, in all honesty, shouldn’t have comforted me as much as it did in that moment.

Knowing going back to sleep was an impossible feat, I shifted to sit up against my stack of pillows. Jack’s face looked different in the soft moonlight– the shadows were nowhere near harsh and the moonlight accentuated the paleness of his soft skin. I couldn’t tell whether it was this way in which he was presented or if I was just feeling vulnerable but there was something about him right in that moment that made me want to give up everything, to just give in and stop caring. To let death come to me. It was a strange sensation full of weird relief.

“How did you know?”, I whispered, eyeing him. I let my fingers gently grasp and tug at my old quilt.

“I followed you”, he murmured back. If he had admitted this at any other moment, I could’ve decked him for being such a snoop but the moonlight seemed to change me and the action seemed more heartfelt than creepy. I was surprised he even cared enough to risk safety like he had. Then again, he did seem to have a funny way of showing he cared. We sat there in midnight silence for a few moments, a quiet of solace, until he finally tossedanother pebble into the stream. “You know, I haven’t, um…I haven’t been completely…honest…with you”, he whispered. He purposefully averted his eyes from mine.

“What do you mean?”, I whispered back, shifting uncomfortably. My heart rate pumped back up again. Something within me was screaming signals of a red flag here. Finally, Jack met my gaze, his eyes more intense than usual.

“Remember when I said I’ve been around the block a few times?”, Jack asked, keeping his voice low. I nodded. I remembered. “Well…I…I never said…how many times…”

Now, this struck me. I always thought the statement was just figurative for higher maturity– I didn’t think it actually meant anything numerical. Knitting my brows in suspicion, I whispered back, “How many…?”

Jack closed his eyes, shifting in his seat again as he sucked in a sharp breath. Then, slowly fluttering his eyes open, he breathed the number. 317.

317 what? Weeks? Days? Hours? Months? The number didn’t make much sense and he could sense my confusion from the look on my face. Jack sucked in another deep breath and continued. “I’ve been around…for three hundred and seventeen years. I-I’m three hundred and seventeen years old”.

Here’s where I burst out into laughter. What did he think I was? Stupid? “B-but if you were three hundred seventeen y-years old…”, I said between rounds. “Th-then you’d be dead by now!”. Wrapping an arm around my abdomen, I sat there ferociously giggling for minutes on end until I couldn’t breathe anymore. It wasn’t until I was gasping for breath when I saw his face. Jack’s eyes were wide with suspicion, almost as if I was an escaped mental patient masturbating in the middle of a five star restaurant, and his expression was completely serious. Was he serious?

My eyes widened again as I stiffened in my place, slowly backing away from him a bit. “Y-you weren’t…you weren’t serious….were you?”, I asked. Jack dropped his gaze from mine and that gave me enough proof to know that somehow, he was completely serious. He expected me to believe this was the truth. “A-alright…”, I said quietly, absorbing this new information. Part of me whispered to just play along, that if I just acted like saying you were that old was perfectly normal, he wouldn’t seem so foreign to me now. And he did seem foreign to me in that instance. He was shy and distant and…shameful. Like being such an age was a sin. And maybe it was, how was I to know? If he really was as old as he said he was.

Once the tension finally started prodding at my sanity, I drew in a breath and forced a small laugh. “Well…at least I was right about you being an old man, then!”, I said as lightheartedly as possible in that moment. A quick smile spread across his face for a split second before returning to his stony gaze.

“No, Violet, be serious for a moment”, he said with a minute shake of his head. Something hidden within his tone made me shut up instantly. He struggled to find the strength to speak, or at least to tell me what he planned to say, but eventually gathered the energy. “I know…I know it’s hard to believe than any living human can…can live as long as I have…”, he started. The way the words tumbled out of his mouth, the way he emphasized the word “living”. He opened his mouth again to speak but no words rose from his throat, just a gasp as I slowly scooted closer to him. With one slightly trembling hand, I reached out and gingerly rested my palm against his chest. Nothing.

“Y-you’re…you’re dead…”, I whispered shakily. Jack shut his eyes and exhaled again, his body starting to slowly tremble. “B-but how…?”

I could tell Jack was regretting ever bringing any of this up but he had to finish what he started. I wouldn’t allow otherwise. I was too involved now. “I-it was…three hundred years ago…wintertime…my sister and I…she wanted to go ice skating, so I took her. The ice was thin…it cracked beneath her feet and…and I couldn’t let her die…she was too young…s-so…so I saved her…I threw her to safety with my, erm…‘old man stick’.”– here he chuckled softly for a second or two. “In the process, though, I…fell through the ice. I don’t remember the pain– I can’t remember the pain. I just knew it hurt. W-when I woke up, though…I was alone. And I couldn’t remember anything. And I lived like that for years– so many years. I had nowhere to go. Nobody could see me. But then…then I met Tooth. And Nick, and Ed, and Sandy. They…they were the only ones who could see me. Tooth…she’s a medium so of course she could see me. The rest…well, they were just lucky. Like you.” Here he finally met my eyes, glossy with the tears that threatened to spill. I extended my hand to hold his in sympathy but he pulled away before I could reach him. “It was Tooth who helped me remember who I was…who I am. She could see I was troubled and…and she wanted to help. So she spent hours on end trying to find any trace of my history, any little puzzle piece buried in the rubble. And eventually she….she did. She came across a poem by a young girl named Emily Jackson– a poem called "Drowned”. It wasn’t very professionally written but that poem, that little rhyming…thing…Tooth was able to trace back this Emily Jackson’s history…which eventually lead to me. Her real name was Emma Overland, a girl from colonial Burgess, Pennsylvania. The poem was published in one of the first issues of the Burgess Brigade newspaper– dated for the seventh of February, 1712. She wrote it…she wrote it in honor of her brother. He died in her place…on a frozen lake…just two days prior. Because the ice was thin and she almost fell through, but he took the bullet for her. His name was Jackson Overland. And now he’s sitting in front of a beautiful, scared girl trying to comprehend the story she just heard and everything that’s happened to her the past two months, or maybe even further back. I-I’m sorry…“

By now his eyes were spilling with tears, his hands trembling though he refused to let me near him. His apology at the conclusion of his story was spoken moreso for the invisible little girl weeping in the corner of a dark room over her brother’s death rather than the scared girl right in front of him. And indeed, I was scared. Terrified, even. What does a person say to a story like that? What does someone say to a dead boy who sacrificed himself for his sister three hundred years ago? With a tiny, sympathetic smile, I whispered, "Do you…do you regret it?”

Jack couldn’t have shaken his head quicker. “Never. I wasn’t a smart kid and I never accomplished anything worthwhile…except that. That is the one thing everyone always remembered me by. The fact that I sacrificed myself for the girl I loved.” His words triggered a genuine smile to spread across my lips. The way he spoke of his sister so lovingly. I could only hope I was as good a sister to Dash as he was to Emma. My mind flashed back to Halloween night when Dash disappeared, how I was so determined to find him when he disappeared within the crowd. Those children who had died in Koz’s greenhouse…if it hadn’t been for Jack and I, Dash would’ve been worm food along with them. My stomach churned once again.

“A-and Tooth…”, I murmured. “She did a lot more for you than I imagined”

Jack nodded with a small smile. “I can never repay her for the great things she’s done for me. She’s given me more than I could’ve ever imagined”. A pang of pain shot through my heart at his words. He spoke of Tooth like he spoke of Emma: with great ingenuity.

“You love her, too, don’t you?”, I whispered, laying back against the pillows again and burrowing deeper beneath my blankets. It was as if my mouth had a mind of it’s own, like the question spilled from my lips without warning my brain. Shame and worry soon enveloped me like the old quilt I was cuddled beneath. Jack was apparently taken aback by my words, too. He thought for a moment before looking off into the darkness and answering quietly.

“I-I don’t know…it’s complicated, I guess. She’s done so much for me but…but she’s always working, always busy. She always has schoolwork or after-school activities. She has time for me but she never has time for…me, if that makes any sense”, he explained, furrowing his brows in thought. I nodded in understanding.

“She makes the time to spend with you but…it doesn’t feel as high in worth as you expect it to or something, right?”, I deduced. I knew exactly what he was talking about– it was the same way with Tony near the end. Before the incident that ultimately tore us apart, that incident that drove us out of town, we would spend hours on end together but it was almost as if it didn’t amount to anything. Like no matter how much time we spent together, it wasn’t just us. There was always some third-party distraction that decreased the worth of our relationship, homework or other people or something on TV.

Jack nodded in response to my question and cautiously scooted forward. “Exactly”, he murmured. I felt myself drawing closer to him, too, like there was a sudden magnetic connection pulling us towards one another. Eyeing my lips, Jack spoke in cautious words as he inched closer and closer. “That’s why…that’s why I feel grateful for you, though. When you’re here…I feel present.”

Miraculously, I understood exactly what he meant. People see you day in and day out, passing in the halls or down the street. They acknowledge your presence but there’s very few who you actually feel wholesome around. Like you can be yourself and feel comfortable; like no matter what, they’ll never make you feel invisible. To Jack, I was one of those people. Maybe I was the only person. But somehow, despite his crass comments and bipolar emotions, I never felt invisible around him, either. And with that, he edged even closer, cupped my face in his frigid hands, and gently pressed his lips to mine.


	17. 16

Tensity. A strange, discomforting tensity pulsed through the entire room like electric waves, raining down on us from the high ceiling. After all, we were a row of sinners trapped in church. That kiss between Jack and I Tuesday night had seemed like an oasis of bliss amongst a rugged mountain range, like everything else in the world had melted away and blended into a sea of murky color, like sidewalk chalk after a rainstorm. Of course, just because your troubles melt away doesn’t mean there isn’t an ocean leftover to drown in. Jack and I could’ve continued our kiss on for a half an hour if time permitted. It could’ve advanced into something much more intense, even. Both of us were so engulfed within each other, though, that neither of us had realized the sun rising behind a congregation of clouds in the sky, a daily ritual that signaled the morning arrival of our entourage.

Three beings gasped in unison, one more dramatically than the rest. Pausing dead in our spots, we came to the realization that we weren’t alone. Jack and I had been caught and there was no way to reverse what had been seen by the others now. Despite what Jack had said about his feelings towards Tooth, she obviously seemed hurt at the sight of our meager act of sympathy. It wasn’t like we loved each other. Sometimes people just do things without thinking. Jack knew that more than anyone, I think.

The rest of that day was spent in complete awkward silences, Tooth keeping her distance from me and constantly averting her eyes. I couldn’t quite grasp why she was so angry with me, though. I knew she had feelings for Jack but with what knowledge I had posessed from Jack’s point of view, she never made enough of an effort for him to reciprocate the love as strongly. Maybe if she lessened her work load and spent more time paying attention to him, she could reel him in. It was almost as if she felt she had special rights to him, though. Like he was her husband or her pet and he had a wedding band or a dog collar proving her ownership of him. But last I checked, he wasn’t married and he didn’t reek of kibble and slobber. The rest of the week was no better, either.

Even sitting far from her at the other end of the pew, she still gave me the cold shoulder and acted as if I was as insignificant as a speck of dust. After everything, I knew one more continent ripped from Pangaea would be enough to crush Atlas. I would not let Tooth create another burden for me to struggle with.

As the ceremony reached it’s close, the five of us rose from our seats and slowly made our way to the urn on the pedestal. It was a beautiful little box, it’s mahogany wood sleek and gleaming in the light of the chapel. The lid was engraved in gold with Sandy’s name and an etching of a graceful little dove. Tooth was the most desperate to approach the thing, pawing her way through the crowd in departure and staring at it with a look of disbelief before delicately running her fingers over the shimmering emboss. Ed came up behind her and delicately rested a hand to her exposed shoulder but she jerked it away quickly, as if she was refusing consolation. In that moment, even I felt a pang of pity for her despite the frigid distance she bade me. After all, her and Sandy had been friends for the longest of time and even I knew the pain of losing someone you’ve grown so close to. The pain of Tony’s death came barreling back at even the mention– they never gave him a proper funeral. His parents didn’t have sufficient enough funds. Guilt plagued me for his corpse’s unrest. He deserved a proper farewell as much as anyone else. My stomach churned as the taste of his baked flesh riddled my taste buds in memory and instantly willed away the thoughts.

Exiting the chapel in a single file line, our quintet refused to look back, to recount the last few moments of Sandy’s life as the woman from the church meticulously covered his new home with a pristine white cloth. Tooth’s hands trembled at her sides but she did not cry a single tear. Heartless, I involuntarily thought to myself. I still couldn’t fathom how she had yet to cry over not only this, but any of what had happened thus far. It was almost as if her heart was in an eternal drought, flower-laden cacti shooting up from the barren plains of her arteries. All the while, Jack kept his distance from both of us, a sense of guilt threatening to reveal itself from beneath his solemn exterior. He did love her, didn’t he? What seemed to perplex me, though, was that by the end of the ceremony, as we all filed into the lobby of the church to admire the pictorial homage and steal a few stale sugar cookies, guest after guest visited with us to give their condolences and offer support. All of us except for Jack. He seemed to keep himself preoccupied with counting the dainty flowers climbing the vines on the wallpaper and yet not a single soul seemed to offer support. It took me moments to remember the tale he had told me just nights ago. You’re one of the lucky ones.

The intimidating rev of a black SUV beckoned us closer from the parking lot as the noon sunlight beat down on our black attire. The reception was to be held at a restaurant down the street yet we all knew none of us were hungry. Nauseous, maybe, but not the least bit hungry. How could we be? Stepping up into the backseat, something inclined me to peer over the roof of the car and off into the heavily forested area surrounding the church’s cemetery. For a split second, I scanned the perimeter only to find the usual foliage until my eyes caught sight of a peculiar mass darting through the underbrush. A dark, shadowy mass.

With a gasp, I tumbled backwards towards the pavement until Nick’s broad hand reached out and grasped my wrist from the backseat, swinging me up and inside. Jack instantaneously dove inside in one swift movement behind me, slamming the door shut as he did so. “What was that for?”

Taking a deep breath for a moment, I uttered softly, “I-I think I saw him…the Nightmare, I mean”. Tooth’s eyes flashed towards me in panic and, was it rage? As if my words had directly threatened her. Glancing from face to face, I saw each of the other three staring back at me with expressions almost blank and meaningless save for the sparks of confusion and suspicion. Only one looked back at me with sincerity and concern: Jack. And something in his eyes had told me had caught sight of it, too.

~o~

“It’s no use, we’re too late. The damage has already been done”, Tooth spoke as she stared at the snippets of bread she tore from her sandwich. The lunchroom was ablaze with chatter but nobody seemed to pay any attention. Our table was absorbed in it’s own force field, it’s own little world. Seemingly impenetrable.

In response to Tooth’s sullen statement, Nick stood from his seat and slammed his fists onto the tabletop in fury. “No! There is no such thing as too late!”, he shouted back at her, his outburst drawing minute attention from passerby. Ed glared up at the burly beast and yanked him back down into his chair.

“We’ve just got to devise some sort of tactic to track this motherfucker down”, Ed elaborated. His jade eyes were filled with an intense enthusiasm, a hunger for the thrill of this chase. But this was a race that we all knew must be carefully plotted. We were dealing with the devil here. Or at least some sort of physical embodiment of it. Maybe this thing wasn’t even human, who were we to know?

As the three of them conversed intently with one another, I silently slipped from my seat to toss what leftover sandwich I still had on my tray. My stomach had ceased to request food since Sandy’s funeral three days prior, and even rejected it in the days beforehand as well, revisiting in the form of technicolor acid. In one instant motion, as soon as my tray had been slid to the top of the trashcan, a frigid hand grasped my wrist and abruptly rotated me around. With a sharp gasp, we were suddenly face to face, two shimmering eyes staring back at me, glinting golden in the afternoon sunlight that flooded from the high cafeteria windows.

“K-Koz!”, I stammered, recoiling in shock. His thin mouth was upturned into a malicious smile, one that mimicked the grin he posed the night he tainted my digestive tract. His grip was too strong to break.

“Violet, I need to talk to you. You haven’t answered my calls. Is something the matter?”. He spoke in a rush of words, the speed like that of a criminal being chased by police. The rapidity increased my discomfort. It irked me how oblivious he was acting as to why I didn’t want to be near him, too. Had he not remembered his feeding me the flesh of my deceased ex-boyfriend?

“There’s nothing to talk about. Just go!”, I pleaded, jerking away from him but again, his grasp was too strong for me to break free. In a bout of desperation, he tugged me in close to his chest and cupped my face tight in his hands. His palms were papery and pale.

“Violet, listen to me. There’s something wrong, I can see it in your eyes. I just want to help! Please, talk to me! Tell me! If there’s something I’m doing wrong, please let me know so I can fix it!”, he begged in fast-paced whispers. His eyes were full of hunger and desperation, an intense need to reel me back in again like I was some sunken treasure he was trying to fish from the ocean. I still couldn’t let him have this satisfaction– it was too late now.

Writhing in his strong hold, I begged back to him. “No! Th-the damage is already done, Koz! What you’ve done is completely unforgivable! Just leave me the fuck alone!”. By now my wailing was beginning to draw attention and Koz knew it. Pressing a finger to my lips, he uttered a soft ssshhhh to try and shut me up.

“Violet, please, listen to me! Stop this nonsense! You’re causing a scene! Just talk to me!”, he murmured and, with a gentler grip than previously used, quickly and softly guided me out to the courtyard by the small of my back. The contact sent a chilling tingle down my spine. Forcing me out into the bright daylight, he lead my struggling form over to the little spot behind the orchids where we had eaten lunch together so many weeks before, where we had first officially met and where I knew I had begun to fall in love with him. The snow on the sill seeped through my jeans and began turning my ass numb. Kneeling before me, Koz grasped both my hands tightly in his and moved the curtain of hair from my face as he spoke in soft, slower tones. “Violet, come on, listen to me. I don’t understand what I did wrong but whatever it is, just tell me and I’ll make it better. I promise. I don’t want to hurt you”.

I couldn’t help but scoff at this, rolling my eyes as they began welling up with tears, though for what reason I wasn’t quite sure. “Koz…”, I whimpered, forcing myself to meet his gaze. His eyes were like that of a kicked puppy, hurt and sorrowful. I almost apologized for my mistreatment of him that moment but his straying hand riding seductively up my thigh reminded me of my intentions. Slapping him away, I scooted further back against the school’s exterior wall and hardened my gaze on him. “Koz, no! How the fuck can you even forget w-what you’ve done?! The pain you put me through last week?!”. The rage was overtaking me and though my heart tugged at the phrase and rejected it be spoken, my mind was stronger and willed it from my throat in a hoarse mumble. “I-I hate you…”

Koz stumbled backwards a moment, pressing his hand deep against the onyx cotton of his t-shirt. “I-I put you through no pain last week, Violet! The only pain you endured was hitting your head on that stupid cabinet door, which obviously hasn’t quite healed yet if you’re acting so strangely!”

A pause. The cabinet door? I retraced each movement of that night: fastening earrings to my lobes, tension against Jack, the sunset outside Koz’s house. The cabinet door. Suddenly everything clarified and confused at the same moment. The impact of the wood whamming me in the forehead, my hand flying up to my hairline, and the aroma of the sweet wine I had been reaching for all flooded back into my mind as fresh as the moments in which they occurred. But what about everything afterwards? Knitting my brows together, I met Koz’s gaze quizzically.

Scooting closer again, he elaborated. “You were reaching for the wine and you accidentally hit your head on the cabinet door. My fault, really– I hadn’t seen you there. The force knocked you out, though, and you were out of it for quite some time. I hesitated taking you to the hospital for fear of what might happen so I took you home to get tended to. You had a minor concussion but nothing too horrid to handle, thank goodness. I wanted so desperately for you to be okay…”. Here, he yet again rested his hand on my thigh but this time I didn’t swat him away. My brows furrowed in confusion as I attempted to comprehend the alternate tale he was enlightening me with. The concussion probably would’ve explained the puking and the unconsciousness, but then Tony…everything had seemed all too real. It had to have been real.

“What about the scrapes? Where did they come from?”, I questioned.

“Simple: your wine glass. When the door hit you, you had your glass in your hand. It fell backwards along with you and shattered across your skin. I spent hours pulling the little tidbits away”, he answered, tenderly running his hand across the supple flesh of my bare forearm to further elaborate. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had forgotten my jacket in our rush to the snowy courtyard. My pores had gone to goosebumps from the chill. Or maybe it was from Koz’s soft touch. Either seemed appropriate.

His answers bewildered me: they were so perfectly aligned and explanatory. Naturally spoken but almost as if they were rehearsed. A shiver ran through me once again. Maybe I had just been delirious– maybe that cannibalism charade was nothing but a dream, some strange concoction of my subconscious created from fucked up nerves in my brain or something. By what means would Koz even have Tony’s corpse, anyhow? I had distinctly remembered what was left of his body had been taken to the morgue where his parents decided to cremate it and send it back to Metroville to be kept close at home. There was no way he’d have been able to get his hands on the body, the morgue kept things strictly confidential.

Koz’s hand ran up my forearm once again, snapping me from my daydreams and reminding me of our presence. In soft spoken tones, he murmured once again, “What’s troubling you? Please…I want to help”. There was some sort of little twitch, an itch, a minute crime his face then committed that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but instantly, I was his again. Not wholly like before but the majority, yes. Once again I had been reeled in, the sunken treasure had been thrown aboard, the beast inside the ditch had tugged me back down.

“There was this dream…a nightmare, even…you were there and…and there was food, delicious food…you fed it to me…but it wasn’t…it was different…it wasn’t, it just…no…it was something else…and…”, I stammered, keeping my voice low and moving my eyes away from him. His brilliant explanation had suddenly made me feel idiotic in my raves about betrayal and cannibalism. How could I have possibly assumed he was such a threat when he’s been so harmless and kind to me every other time? I disregarded the memory of the infant buried in his greenhouse– it no longer held any significance nor gave any obvious proof of criminal intent. People buried dead things all the time, after all. Grasping my hand in his, he lightly squeezed my palm to reassure me that everything was fine, that I could admit my troubles to him and not to be afraid. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and recounted that flesh-eating mirage. “It was dinnertime, the dinner you had put together for us…there was exotic food but…but it wasn’t quite, erm…‘food’, per say…i-it was…it was the flesh of my, uh…my ex-boyfriend…he was recently d-deceased…a-and you went…you were an absolute maniac…you wanted…you wanted to eat me next…you said…”. Finally, slowly, opening my eyes, I peeked over at Koz for his reaction. His face was blank for a moment, a blink of his lids, and then he busted out into complete and insane laughter. I wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or relieved.

“That’s ridiculous! I-I’d never…!”, he gasped through his guffaws. Once he started catching his breath, he stood and sat beside me, cupping my face in his hands once again. “Violet, listen to me: I would never do anything to hurt you or hinder your feelings for me, alright? I promise. You mean so much to me, I couldn’t even bear the thought of doing such a thing to you”, he admitted. His pale and papery palms pressed against my cheeks before he leaned in and planted a quick peck on my lips. I melted.

Strutting back into the cafeteria on his arm, I felt more confident and happy than when we had left. Three familiar pairs of eyes glued themselves to us as we approached, all radiating utmost suspicion. A low growl rose from Ed’s chest upon our arrival.

“Violet! What is he doing here?”, Nick demanded, fighting back a small snarl of frustration. With a grin, I answered him confidently.

“Despite your accusations, Koz is innocent. And he wants to help.”


	18. 17

“It’s no use– we’re never going to find him”. All attention turned to me, averting my eyes as I toyed with one of the cherry red pushpins stabbed into the cork board. For the past couple days, all I had seen were heavily detailed maps and scrap pieces of notebook paper with plans scribbled in everyone’s handwriting and an assortment of ink. Tooth’s swirling, Arabic-style handwriting danced through my dreams and morphed into a sparkly pink noose that proceeded to strangle me nightly. A familiar hand, pale and papery, rested on my bare shoulder, spreading a cool tingle like menthol on a bare chest.

“Don’t worry, and don’t be so negative. We will find him. I promise”, Koz said, softly and reassuringly. His presence made the meetings all the more bearable, lending his knowledge of the streets and the ins and outs of alleyways. He claimed he was so street smart from spending his entire life in the deadbeat little town, sneaking through the neighborhoods and between houses in the middle of the night. He was like a stealthy little ninja, mysterious and invisible in the shadows of the town’s cracks and crevices. I imagined myself gliding along the pavement beside him, hovering, soaring, flying. The fantasy helped settle my unease.

Five more innocent citizens had fallen victim to this Nightmare creature within those few days, though, and while Koz’s presence and soft, comforting voice helped ebb away the worry, the pleasant grace was only temporary. The contemplation of this creature’s motives turned me insomniatic, wasting away precious moments of sleep with pondering. How could someone be so heartless to even murder so many? The death toll was the only certain proof we had but beside that, how many more had been raped? Kidnapped? My mind flashed back to that night at the beach, the concrete scraping my skin and his tongue pleasuring me in ways I never knew possible. Bile rose in my throat at the memory. Still, the fact that there was someone out there, someone in literal existence, who could mercilessly slaughter so many innocent people without a single care of the consequences was disgusting beyond belief. I had heard of them in stories but never had I experienced firsthand the effects of such a monster, nor even knew the legend of beasts to this extent were more than just mere myth. Was humanity really disintegrating into such a barbaric charade?

These strange, stupid little strands of thought began tangling my sanity like the prey of a python, squeezing the vivacity from it and, in turn, injecting a toxic, morose poison that spilled through my veins. Burrowing into the corner of my shabby attic bedroom, I pushed my earbuds as far into my ears as they would go and blasted the heaviest tune I could find– the Queen’s Rebuke/The Crossing from the Decemberist’s “The Hazards of Love”. My finger tenderly pressed the volume up to it’s highest decibel, the electric guitar shrieking so loud that it’s screech echoed across the room. With closed eyes, I leaned my forehead against the frigid glass and tried to lose myself in this fantastic universe, gripping a blade in my fingers and scraping across my flesh as an accompaniment. My mind had soon grown so enthralled in this little pastime I had created for myself, I had yet to realize Jack’s presence until he crouched beside me on the mattress and popped the little red bud from my ear.

“Jeez, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more serious about hearing loss”, he jested with that same intolerable smirk on his face. Reaching for my earbud, I exclaimed in opposition but Jack just swung it further away to tease. “Why do you listen to your music so freaking loud, anyways?”

Snatching my earbud back, I dropped it with it’s twin in my lap and placed the tiny blade on the windowsill, pressing my forearm nonchalantly against my jeans to stop the bleeding. I couldn’t have given any less of a fuck about whether or not this would’ve made appear like a murderer. Maybe that’d help keep the others at bay. “Because”, I responded to Jack’s question, “It takes immense volumes to block out the stupidity of the world, and even then.”

At this, Jack smiled softly and shook his head, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he shifted in his spot. “You need to learn to be happier. You’re all hate and angst. It’s a bit of a downer.” My mind flashed back to our earlier encounters, his determination to kick me out of town so strong he pinned me to the wall. Talk about hate and angst.

“I am happy”, I counteracted. “I’m happy with hating everything. Does that not please you, old man?”. I wholly expected him to argue against my snarky comment regarding his age but his unpredictable reaction surprised me. Instead, he just smirked and leaned back against the dusty throw pillows. Their white cotton fabric was stained with age and they had pale little roses dancing across them. They looked like something out of my grandmother’s house. I wished every day to rip them to shreds with my blood-stained blade.

Casually lounging atop my bed, Jack replied, “No. It doesn’t please me. A girl like you shouldn’t be so depressed. A girl like you doesn’t deserve to be so depressed”. A moment of silence as this settled in our thoughts. What did he mean “a girl like me”? What kind of girl did he think I was? I was definitely not all rainbows and sunshine and happy sprinkle unicorns, like Tooth often seemed. And maybe I didn’t deserve depression but that didn’t mean it didn’t come to me. Nobody deserves the negative gifts they receive, do they? Did Sleeping Beauty deserve a death sentence when she was just an innocent little baby? I thought not.

After at least a minute of Jack staring at the floorboards with furrowed brows, his dormant body suddenly jolted up from it’s tranquil state, in one swift motion snatching my still-bleeding wrist from my lap and dragging me towards the door like a helpless rag doll. I squirmed and protested in his grip, demanding to know where we were going, but all he did was smirk back at me over his shoulder and say, “We’re gonna have a little fun instead.”

Barreling down the stairs, he dragged me out into the open, arctic air, reminding me he gave me no time to snatch a jacket, and weaved through the streets like an acrobat on cocaine. Jack paid little warning to the stoplights and angry drivers shaking their fists at the lunatic pedestrian haphazardly scuttling through the streets, too preoccupied on wherever his destination lay. As we finally reached a halt, I surveyed my surroundings to find we were on the outskirts of an abandoned garbage dump. The soil was grimy and gray beneath my sneakers and caked itself to the soles of my shoes, the stink wafting through the air nearly unbearable. Releasing his grip, Jack jumped up onto the rusting metal fence and began climbing the wire lattice with the greatest of ease, peering over his shoulder once he reached the top as if he expected me to follow.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”, I uttered as my eyes darted back and forth in anxiety. I hadn’t lived in Burgess for very long but I knew enough to know this place had been abandoned for years, since the 70’s at least. The innumerable parasites and vermin lurking about this forgotten wasteland turned me queasy.

Jack just rolled his sapphire eyes and straddled the top of the fence, expertly placing himself between the two triangular prongs so as not to damage himself, I supposed. “I thought we were gonna have a little fun, Vi. You really are a stick in the mud, aren’t you? Do you really want to live your entire life being held back by convention?”. Something in his words ignited a flame of anger within me right then, like he was cracking me down, like I suddenly wasn’t good enough. I hated the way he did this, the way he’d tease me into doing something. His callow persuasion was annoyingly effective. With an exasperated sigh, I glared up at him with narrow eyes before scuttling up the wire lattice myself, faster than him and then gracefully swinging over the top and tumbling down into the dirt. I hadn’t felt so sneaky in months. The fact I still possessed spy-like stealth made me cringe at the tendrils of the past coiling themselves around me once again.

“Why this place, though? Why here?”, I questioned while I stood up and brushed myself off. The place was, in all honesty, completely and utterly ghastly. All around us, great cone-shaped skyscrapers of mismatched junk towered high above us like steampunk mountains, rusty and deteriorating. The hot fog which rose with a whine from the dying engines of outdated automobiles almost seemed to paint the sky a rusty red like the sunset before an apocalypse. Across the ground, cockroaches scuttled from point A to point B scavenging for any semblance of food they could find.

Jack shrugged as he jumped down from the climax of the fence and brushed the dirt off himself, as well. “I don’t know, it just seemed like someplace interesting. I thought maybe we might be able to find some fun, you know? Hijack an old car. Contract asbestos from someone’s old moldy sandwich. Climb a mountain. Fuck in the rotting backseat. The usual.” Though I knew his suggestions were meant to be taken comically, I rolled my eyes and glared over at him before my eyes were drawn to something else. In my peripheral vision, I caught sight of something gold and shimmering dangling from the swaying rear view mirror of a dead 1979 Buick Lasabre, it’s custard yellow paint flaking off in huge chunks and falling to the earth like rose petals at a wedding. Evoked with curiosity, I edged away from Jack’s side towards the vehicle, climbing onto the broad hood and reaching through the shattered windshield to gingerly snatch the little gadget from it’s perch. Hanging off a leather chain swung an endearing little charm, the translucent gem cloudy and tinted a rose gold from age but still possessing a slight glint in the murky sunlight. Shifting on top of the car’s hood, I tugged at the hem of my shirt to swipe the grime away from the plastic diamond in hopes of restoring some of it’s dignity. It’s angles transformed the ugly landfill into a kaleidoscope of rust and ash.

“There’s something so mesmerizing about it…”, I mumbled to myself, admiring the dull sparkle. Jack cocked his head and approached, hesitantly sliding into the spot beside me. Peeking over my shoulder, he smiled approvingly at the jewel. “It’s far from perfect but I like it. It’s fun to toy with”.

With a vague chuckle, Jack nodded and tugged the leather chain from my fingers. “A diamond in the rough. Literally”, he mused. “Do you think it feels special?”

Turning in my spot to better look at him, I tilted my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“This gemstone here. Do you think it feels special knowing it’s the most beautiful thing in this godforsaken dump?”, Jack asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think it even has feelings, so no.”

“Everything has feelings”, Jack stated matter-of-factly. “Like how trees feel pain when mindless assholes shove chainsaws through their trunks, and how rivers feel free when dams don’t prevent them from flowing. Everything has feelings” His philosophical analyses were interesting but logically, their sensibility was null. With a minute shake of my head, I turned away from him.

“Have you been secretly growing and smoking pot in my basement or something?”, I responded but Jack grew serious, twisting me back around by the shoulder to face him.

“Violet, stop being so close-minded. Let yourself open up to new things. Trust new things. Trust new ideas. Trust new people. Trust me.” The intensity of his eyes made me uneasy and I tried to turn away from his gaze but when I did, he reached out and cupped the side of my face with his frigid hand. I wasn’t sure whether he was asking too much or if he was asking just enough. Koz’s face fought it’s way into my mind, the way his hand rode up my leg and his smooth voice convinced me of his innocence just days ago. Then the way his mouth upturned into that hideous smile as sweet-basted flesh wrestled with my tongue. Of course that was just a dream, but still. The parallels of fantasy and reality were beginning to intermingle and skew my perceptions of right and wrong. I didn’t know who I could put faith in trusting anymore. Finally mustering enough strength, I shook my head and broke Jack’s gentle hold. He didn’t fight back my protest.

“I can’t, Jack. This is all wrong, so very wrong. God, this whole town is wrong! What did I ever do to get into this mess, Jack? Tell me, what did I ever do?”, I pleaded in a hoarse whisper. The mounds of trash around us began growing taller, more intimidating, staring me down as they spun in a huge circular blur.

“You didn’t do anything. Like I said earlier, Violet, you don’t deserve this kind of pain. You don’t deserve this kind of unhappiness. You’ve done nothing wrong.” Jack reassured. Not taking heed of any pleas for personal space, he scooted closer and gently squeezed my shoulder. His touch intensified the frigidity of the wintry air on my exposed skin and a shiver ran through my body. Noticing this, Jack slithered out of his royal blue hoodie and without even providing a moment for me to fight against it, he plunked it over my head and dressed me in warmer attire like I was four years old. It’s thick fabric draped like a blanket on my small, bony frame but I instinctively burrowed deep inside it’s fleece interior, plunging my hands into the central pocket.

“That’s the thing, though. I have done something wrong. I’ve done plenty of things, terrible things. Things I’m not and never will be proud of. I’m a monster, Jack. The karma’s just now catching up to me”, I confessed. For the first time since he stripped himself, I glanced over at him. A white v-neck hung off his lanky frame, the fabric so thin I could see his toned chest through the material. His alabaster skin, his pale hair, the white shirt– it all made him so angelic. I half-expected a hubcap to randomly rise behind his head and start glowing like a halo. I wondered if he was cold but then reminded myself he was too dead to feel. I pressed on. “He’s after me, Jack. This Nightmare, whatever the thing is, he wants me dead and I’ll be damned if he fails. I’m a time bomb, Jack. And I won’t make any promises I can’t keep”

Jack went completely still– I could’ve swore his eyes seemed glossy with threatening tears but before I could be sure, he grimaced and shook his head. “No. No, he’s not going to kill you, Violet. I won’t let that happen. You have a right to live just like everyone else does, regardless of what mistakes you’ve made in the past.” I wished I could’ve believed his spiel but he hadn’t had the slightest clue of my past and he knew it. It’s idiotic to make blind assumptions and as of now, Jack was the king of the imbeciles. Still, he refused to back down. In almost an instant, he grasped my arms tightly and drew me in closer to him, pressing his forehead against mine to force our eyes to focus on one another. His voice was tense and trembling. “Violet, I have spent much too long doing everything I can to keep you safe, I’m not backing out now. I told you to leave and you should’ve but you didn’t listen, god dammit. So now you leave me no choice.”

“J-Jack, you’re scaring me…”, I uttered. He was too close, this was too much. Claustrophobia began tainting his grip, his hoodie tightening as my lungs choked for air. My stomach churned, his touch suddenly toxic. I could feel the beginnings of a sweat forming on my twitching brow, a numbness in the tip of my nose.

“Violet, I–”

And then everything ended. Just as the words I feared he would speak were to pour from his mouth, a shriek, like a battle cry, burst from the sea of trash then instantly cut off like some strange third-party force had flicked a switch. Then sounded an off-beat rumbling that grew in volume until it’s source reached our lap with blood-stained locks of hair and wide, petrified eyes. Staring up at us was none other than the dismembered head of one more innocent victim and in that moment I finally understand Jack’s rant that everything, indeed, had feelings.


	19. 18

Dull sunlight filtered through the dirty windows, spotted with flecks of falling snow, as the whir of the thermostat lulled everyone into blank stares. Mr. Chabotsky paced before the chalkboard, droning on about some biological phenomenon in current news. Sinking into my seat, I drew a blue ballpoint pen from the front pouch of my backpack and began sketching snowflakes up my arm, pressing the pen’s tip hard into my skin in hopes of maybe drawing blood. I could feel Koz’s eyes drilling holes through the back of my head but he didn’t bother to stand up to confiscate my new little weapon. Maybe he shared the rest of the class’s lethargy.

Three more days and we’d be free from this hellhole, if only for a while. Thanksgiving break was coming up quick and being relieved of the stresses of school for just a few meager days seemed heavenly enough. I could care less about the overcooked turkey and the unsettling jiggle of cranberry sauce, I just needed a few days away. To myself. To not be burdened by the horrific occurrences of the past few months. To experience a break.

Suddenly, one single word from Mr. Chabotsky’s mouth revived the zombies slouched lifelessly in the room: project. Everyone’s ears perking up, we listened closely as the stout man explained our mission. For six weeks, we were to find a place to gain internship for job experience, preferably somewhere steeped with biological aspects, and record our findings regarding the people that worked there. More psychological than biological, perhaps, but Mr. Chabotsky’s face glowed with enthusiasm over this little assignment he had provided us. Apparently the grade was a pretty big deal.

The majority of my classmates smiled in approval at the project, no doubt eager to participate in something that wasn’t squirming under a microscope or threatening to explode, but I felt my stomach churn in a different direction. After all my hopes had been risen, yet again I was being confiscated of something promised to me: freetime. Now, instead of hiding away from the world for a week, I’d be thrust deeper into it, forced to associate myself with the lifeless busybodies of Burgess. I didn’t even know of a place where I could find an internship to. Sure, there was Insuricare under the watchful eye of my father but cubicles are confining and printer ink stamps social security numbers into your wrist. Restricting.

Rattling my brain, the bell signaled what felt like one of the last releases of freedom I’d experience in a while. Slinging my back onto one shoulder, I made a beeline straight for the exit until a cold hand grasped my wrist and pulled me backwards. Squirming in protest, it wasn’t until I tilted my head back and met a pair of glimmering eyes that I finally relaxed.

“So, do you know where you want to intern yet?”, Koz asked with a playful smirk. His attitude fed me suspicion of his intent. I shook my head in response. “Good”, he replied back, moving his hands onto my shoulders and turning me to face him. “Because I’ve got a place for you already.” He must’ve sensed my confusion for he smiled a bit in amusement then looked over his shoulder, as if to make sure we were alone, and guided me out across the hallway and into the janitor’s closet nearby. My heart rate quickened as he tugged the rusty chain and the flickering light bulb above us flashed on with a drone, like it took great effort to illuminate the tiny space.

“You’re not insinuating I become a prostitute or something, are you?”, I asked with a sly smile as I kicked a used condom across the linoleum with the toe of my shoe. What happened in the janitor’s closet stayed in the janitor’s closet and many a time so far this year I had already caught the groans and pounds of those fucking in close, cluttered quarters. Was I the next victim of this sick high school charade?

Koz just shook his head with a small chuckle before gently pinning me to the wall. “Vi, I’m going to give you a set of instructions and you must follow them exactly as I tell you, okay?” I nodded in agreement. His face was mere inches from mine, his eyes tense and serious. They no longer glimmered and were stone hard and gray. “There’s room enough for an intern at the Burgess Brigade– you know, the newspaper? It’s under wraps as of right now because of all this killer business going on– there’s only a select number of people you can trust anymore and even then. But I want you to go out to the courtyard at lunch and look for a man named Buddy Pine– you’ll know him when you see him. He sits out on the wall near the fence where the grass is dry and dead and there are little white flowers poking up out of the grass around a mound of cigarette butts. Tell him I sent you and he can get you in, alright?”

Furrowing my brows, I stared at Koz questioningly. “Why is this is so important, though?” My voice came out as a hoarse whisper, the pungent odor of bleach beginning to sting my throat. Koz leaned in a bit closer, his forehead pressed against mine, and continued.

“Because, Vi. There’s a lot the newspaper doesn’t release into the public. Bias by omission. There’s stuff they don’t want you to know, so they hide it anyways. You can get information nobody else has, information on this killer going around town. Information on who killed Tony and Sandy and the others. Don’t you see, Vi? This is all just a game. Some sick, disgusting game but in order to win, you’ve got to cheat. You’ve got to find the loopholes and take advantage of them because if you don’t…if you don’t, you lose. And when you lose, you die.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, stiffening me completely. When you lose, you die. He was right– all of this was virtually nothing but some sick, childish game. A round of hide-and-seek. You run yourself ragged and pray the man in the shadows doesn’t find you. I had already had too many close calls. My mind flashed back to that night at the dump, the way that innocent person’s head just tumbled down the rubble like a kickball at recess. This creature– this beast– had no mercy and he was toying with our minds. I knew deep down that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me next. I had been given too many second chances, fed too many threats. This was the final call, the judgment day. Either way, I was going to die anyways.

Sneaking through the hallways, I hid myself amongst the rushing crowds barreling towards the cafeteria. Tooth, Nick, and Ed would be pissed off at me for ditching them, I already knew. Koz had injected a level of seriousness into this, though, that deemed this mission impossible to refuse. With one quick, deep breath, I weaved through the crowd and slipped out into the sunlight. Surveying the area, I absorbed every face I spied. The courtyard seemed emptier today than the previous times I had visited, the little spot behind the black orchids beckoning me home. In my place sat a girl with slicked back hair, her face painted with streaks of black and piercings looped through her flesh. I pitied her for reasons I couldn’t quite comprehend. I pitied her until I realized she was me: the embodiment of my inner self personified, with metal in her skin and scars up her arms, alone and distant. She held my attention for a moment more until I reminded myself I had a job to do.

Peering past the corner, I stumbled across the outer fence where the dead grass was hidden by the blanket of snow. One section was extinguished by the ash fallen from a lit cigarette which guided my eyes up to it’s source: lounging there on the wall sat who I could only assume was Buddy Pine. He leaned against the frosted bricks, his ginger hair spiked like flames licking at the sky. The dark circles framing his aquamarine eyes further elaborated their crystalline color as they focused hard on some distant, invisible force. His face was pale and the blush across his cheeks from the cold complimented a light dusting of freckles. A cigarette was pinched between his teeth. Catching sight of me in his peripheral vision, he turned to face me with a hardened glare, removing his cigarette between two fingers and blowing a puff of smoke into the frigid air.

“You come here looking for cum, babe?”, he said with a devilish grin that could only constitute a desire for sex. Straightening my spine, I folded my arms and glared at him as he took another drag.

“Is sex all you can think about? Have you really gone that long without getting laid?”, I shot back, feeling a tingle rise in my chest from the thrill of human confrontation. His eyebrows rose and his smile widened.

“Feisty. I like it. I like a girl who knows what he wants”, he cooed, flicking the accumulation of ash off the tip of his Marlboro. He forced himself up from his seat and began advancing towards me with the look of hunger in his eyes, like that of a predator eying his prey. I wasn’t planning on becoming sex fodder to some thirsty douche on the playground. Pressing a hand against his fleshy chest, I kept him at bay and furrowed my brows in determination.

“Koz sent me. He said you could get me into the Brigade”, I explained shortly. Recoiling a few steps, he smirked at me with all-knowing intent.

“Ah, you’re the Brigade babe! Koz warned me you’d be coming here. Yeah, I don’t think the newspaper would be interested in…you”, he jested, coming closer again and twirling a lock of my raven hair between his grimy fingers. They showed the evidence of one whose been smoking for quite a while. Pushing him away, I regained control of the conversation again.

“Listen, douche bag, I didn’t come all the way out here to be messed with like some sex toy, okay? Just because I have too much dignity to fuck you doesn’t mean you shouldn’t help me out here, okay? I have been at this shit for way too long to let some sex-hungry man whore pillage a very important mission, mmkay?”, I fired back at him. It wasn’t until then that I realized how terribly desperate I truly was for answers. I was sick and tired of playing this game and Buddy Pine wasn’t going to stop me from doing everything in my power to win.

Buddy’s eyes widened at my sudden outburst of spunk, then narrowed with a sickening grin. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t make the rules around here, okay? If they don’t want you, they don’t want you– I’m just trying to save you the heartbreak of later rejection. Plus, I think my place of business has greater…benefits”, he explained with a smirk, coming onto me again. He positioned his lips near my ear and whispered, “Eight whole inches.”

His snide remarks only further fueled by aggravation, strength growing in a tingle throughout my body. Pressing him hard against the brick wall, I pinned him to the building’s exterior and tore the cigarette from his mouth, pounding it into the snow with the heel of my shoe. “Listen closely, Pine, because I’m only going to say this once: I swear to fuck, if you do not help me now, I will snag that little lighter from your pants and burn you so fast, you’ll still be able to feel your rotting flesh after it’s already turned to ash, got it?”.

His thin mouth turned up into a smirk, obviously underestimating my gumption, and whispered in a soft, seductive whisper, “Try me, supergirl”. That was the last straw. In one swift motion, I reached into his pocket and tore the little black lighter from his pants, igniting the flame and positioning it under his chin so close the flesh reddened and gradually burned. “You’re a fucking bitch!”, he screamed at me as he knocked the lighter from my hands and pinned me to the frozen ground. I fought beneath him but he held me down tighter and leaned down to start removing my pants with his teeth.

“Why is this such a problem for you?!”, I shouted, struggling beneath his hold. With one expert tug, my jeans were unbuttoned and his teeth gripped the waist and slid them down my legs, goosebumps rising on the exposed skin. He refused to answer.

Was nobody further witnessing this disgrace? Were we invisible to the rest of the student body? I struggled beneath Buddy’s beefy frame but he showed no mercy for my desperation. This stranger would surely kill me given the chance. The lighter from his pocket had been flung across the courtyard when he pinned me down. Squirming beneath him, he gripped the waist of my underwear between his teeth and tugged downward, completely exposing my nether regions. I was running out of time, there was only so much left I could do. Fighting him, I finally found the strength to speak again, “Compromise! What if we compromise?!”

There must have been some underlying notion in the word that struck interest in the vulgar teen for he suddenly paused and looked at me with ferocious curiosity. “Compromise?”, he questioned, his voice deep and gravely. Gasping for breath, I nodded.

“C-compromise, yes! Compromise”, I repeated, gracious enough to be given at least a minute of respite for negotiation.

“What kind of compromise?”, he questioned, cocking his head to the side. He wore the smile of a serial killer.

“Help me out, get me this internship, and I’ll do anything you want. Promise. Just get me the internship first”, I offered. I was giving him the freedom to use me however he wished should he give me this one small favor. I didn’t even understand why he was so defensive towards it in the first place– we had never met before in our entire lives yet he felt so inclined to hinder me as an obstacle. Surely Koz would murder the kid upon finding out about this.

Buddy took this offer into consideration, pouting his thin lips and furrowing his pale brows a moment in deep thought. Gliding his aquamarine eyes back over to me, then, he smirked and said seductively. “Fine. But only on the account of anything I want.”

~o~

The streets glistened with the glossy reflections of blurred lamplight in the puddles, the spray splashing across the buildings as cars drove through their wake. The sun was just setting in warm hues as I scrambled across the pavement towards the tall skyscraper on West Street, the sign reading “The Burgess Brigade”. Slipping in through the front door, I was immersed into a world of beautiful chaos. Journalists scattering themselves across the hallways like ants trying to rebuild their kingdom, papers flapping in their hands, a cacophony of constant clacking from the writer’s keyboards, their fingers darting across the board with the swiftest of ease. The receptionist at the desk glared up at me with piercing jade eyes, her hot pink hair falling into her face in choppy chunks, and motioned me forward with one bejeweled hand.

“What can I do for you?”, she said sourly, looking me up and down. Swallowing back any fear and clutching my notebook close to my chest, I stated my purpose.

“I was sent here by a man named Buddy Pine. Something about a, um, internship he recommended me for”, I explained, keeping my voice low so as not to disrupt the bedlam. The receptionist’s face softened at the mention of Pine’s name and she twirled in her chair to dial a few select numbers on her sleek black phone. Her deep red mouth murmured something into the receiver and then, with a nod, hung up and turned back to face me.

“Mr. Ego will see you about this, erm…‘internship’ dilemma you speak of. Just go down the hall, make a right at the bathrooms, and turn down the corner until you find a blue door marked with the letters 'A.E.’”, she explained and then, just as we were to part ways, she drew me back into her attention and again and added, “Oh, and don’t let him scare you too much. He’s pretty blunt and intimidating but if he smells your fear, he won’t bother to consult with you. Good luck, honeybuns”. Her last statement seemed almost mocking, sarcastic and intimidating, and in no way eased my tension. Repeating her directions in my head, I followed where she said until I reached a faded blue door, it’s hem scuffed and it’s paint chipping, with the initials “A.E.” printed in peeling black paint on the foggy, criss-crossed window.

Drawing in a deep breath, I racked my knuckles lightly on the door and a deep, haunting voice from inside beckoned me to enter. The room was darkly lit, nothing but a small desk lamp providing any illumination. With his back crouched in his seat, the lanky older man peered towards me with intimidating eyes, his fingertips pressed together above his pristinely polished desk. “You must be the girl Martha told me about. Sit, make yourself at home. But don’t get too comfortable. I don’t want to waste too much time on you”, he spoke. I did as I was told and I settled uncomfortably into one of the stiff leather armchairs tilted precisely towards his desk. Countless bookshelves lined the walls with zillions of books, the room too dark for me to read the titles on their spines, and tiny rat skeletons proved as decoration and bookends. My stomach churned in discomfort and I pulled my notebook even tighter to my chest to try and mask any fear that might have shown through my crumbling facade of confidence.

From behind spotless spectacles, the man peered me over and analyzed my every feature: my flat chest, my straight sides, the way my shirt folded across my chest to signify that there wasn’t quite enough meat on my bones, my tiny wrists and their dancing scars, my knobby knees pressed together to keep from trembling, crooked teeth and ugly faint freckles. He was silently, mentally scrutinizing my every flaw. Bile rose in my throat from the anxiety.

“Mr. Pine tells me you’re a friend of his. Is that so?”, the man questioned, turning to fix the nit-picky little discrepancy of angular disproportion on his desk. Every adornment and furnishing was angled so that it was all perfectly facing towards him. I nodded in response to his question, my throat too dry to explain the circumstances of me and Pine’s unhappy acquaintance. “He gave quite a generous recommendation as to your employment here. Of course, you know the internship position he suggests you for is quite the scandalous little secret, obviously. What with all these murder cases filing through our office, we can’t trust just anybody, yes? So what makes me think that I can trust you?”

His question took me aback, my mouth gaping open slightly as I tried to deduce a reasonable explanation. My credentials weren’t better than anyone else’s who could’ve applied for the job– what did make me think he could trust me? Buddy Pine’s recommendation wasn’t anyone near enough evidence to prove me trustworthy in such a business, I needed something substantial, something that would win this hauntingly skeletal man over. I sat there in panicked silence for moments on end until the man rolled his eyes and turned towards his telephone, reaching for the receiver and dialing some foreign number, no doubt the receptionist’s desk. Just as he placed his lips to the phone, the excuse came to me.

“Closure!”, I blurted quickly and loudly. The man turned to look at me with a curious expression, putting his conversational opponent on hold. “C-closure…"I stammered out again, shifting in my seat. This was it. I was going to have to explain myself. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to look the man in the eyes and shoved the words from my mouth. "My exceptional experience with the work of this mass killer can prove as a beneficial addition to your business, Mr. Ego. Multiple friends of mine have been extinguished by this monster and even more affected by his presence in this town and I personally feel partially to blame for reasons unknown to even myself. So much pain has been caused by this ever-growing rift in my life from this beast and I plan to do everything in my power to set things as right as humanly possible. This killer needs to be captured and executed and I won’t rest until he is. The police are no use– they haven’t cared for these cases since I arrived her, sir, but I do. I care more than any teenager should because I was directly affected myself. But you guys, here. You guys receive every news story regarding this blackguard and the information stored here could be beneficial in capturing him. I’m well aware that I’m just a kid but I’m a kid who has a purpose and that purpose is to try and annihilate any more of these brutal slaughterings for the sanity of Burgess, regardless of whatever price I have to pay. He’s been at this for far too long, sir, and I’m positive that with my determination and the information on him you have stored in this very building, Burgess can be restored to a safer place. The horror ends now.”

Shocked with my little spiel, I leaned back in my chair and gripped the sides of my notebook so as to alleviate the trembling in my hands. Ego just stared at me with wide, surprised eyes for a moment or so, committing to a few blinks, before a small, ugly little smile spread across his lips. “You arrive with the passion of a prodigy. That’s quite the rare trait in someone as young as you”, he began, scooting close to the edge of his desk and pressing his fingers together once again. “Your little speech seems to have convinced me an appropriate amount that your desire for this position and your compassion for the circumstances of this town are exemplary in comparison to the opposing applicants for this secretive internship. So it’s without further ado that I commend you, Miss Vi Hawkins. Congratulations on your new internship. Don’t dare to disappoint me.”


	20. 19

Nighttime fell quicker than expected as I edged myself through the small opening I had propped into the front door. Everything was dark save for the moonlight, forcing me to squint in order to see anything as I tiptoed up the staircase, leaving a trail of melting sludge behind me. If everyone hadn’t been asleep, I’d have squealed with incomparable delight. This was it. I was in. It was finished. Everything from here on out would be nothing short of absolute simplicity. I’d scour the archives for information, get what I need, and I’d track down this bastard myself and gift him with ample punishment. With a great sigh of happy exhaustion, I tossed my bag to the floor and flopped backwards onto my musty bed, a grin spreading wide across my face.

“Well, someone’s home late. Are you high?”, a familiar voice questioned and, looking upwards, Jack was pressed against the furthermost bedroom wall staring down at me. I shrieked in shock and jolted backwards but then quickly covered my mouth in remorse, snatching a pair of balled up socks and pelting him on the arm with it vigorously as punishment.

“Shut up! And no, I am not high! What the fuck are you even doing here? Get out!”, I scolded him in whispered screams. Whatever happened that night at the dump didn’t matter anymore– we were both vulnerable and stupid. Plus, I had enough knowledge of him to know that whatever he did or said in the coming moments would surely hinder my happiness, a happiness I hadn’t quite felt in forever. I was not going to let him snatch this from me.

Jack crossed his arms and smirked at my rage. “What am I doing here? I should be asking you what you were doing out there. You know it’s dangerous to be out and about alone at night. That’s when the Nightmare lurks”, he explained. He sounded like a mother– dry and blunt and authoritative, emphasizing the last sentence so as to amplify the threat.

Shaking my head, I responded. “It’s none of your business, Jack. Stay out of it”. His face fell in mock pain and he recoiled a few steps, obviously trying to guilt me out of giving him a legitimate answer.

“Oh, but it is my business, Violet. You made it my business the moment you came here and stepped in my house, you know that? Everything is my business now”, he replied, slowly approaching further again once he grew closer to the end of his sentences. Glaring over towards him as I shoved the contents of my purse into creaking vanity drawers, I noticed something on his face. Ingenuity. Sincerity. Concern. Despite his uncharacteristically warmer nature, I took no heed to his pleas and his begging drove me nearer to the brink.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I drew in a sharp breath and then exhaled it out in a projectile huff. “Fine, Jack. If you’re so keen on knowing my business, and all my business, then fine. I was out late because I’m secretly a prostitute who goes around sucking dick and then chopping the thing off and bringing it home with me to secretly manifest a collection of my victim’s penises with which I then use for sexual pleasure when I’m bored and lonely. There you go.”

Jack narrowed his eyes and chuckled a strained laugh as he tightened his crossed arms about his chest. He radiated annoyance yet the reddening in his pale cheeks signified the titillation of my statement, which was satisfaction enough for me. Regardless, though, he knew I was lying.

We stood there in silence for another moment, then another, then another still until finally the mallet of his stony-faced gaze shattered my composure and I finally cracked beneath him. With a defeated sigh, I ran my fingers through my hair and slouched into the seat of my vanity. “Alright, fine. I’m not a prostitute. I was out so late because…because I got a job. At the newspaper.”

A blank expression resided upon Jack’s face for a second or two until the statement registered in his brain. “Y-you mean the Brigade? You got a job on the Brigade? How? Who? Why?”, he questioned. His tone inflicted either fury or excitement, I couldn’t detect which. I cautiously stepped about my words just in case.

“It’s a school project. We have to intern someplace for six weeks for job experience and, well, Koz knew of this oppo-”

“Koz?!”, Jack exclaimed in interruption. His sapphire eyes bugged out of his head, his brows arching towards the center of his forehead and his mouth agape. Then came the blood bubbling back up to his face. “Violet, are you some sort of fucking idiot? After everything this bastard has done to you and you still trust him? What makes you think any of this is a good idea?!”, he erupted.

Instantly jolting from my seat, I shouted back, “Because! First off, yes I still trust Koz! And secondly, this *is* a good idea! The newspaper has the second most information on this killer and can help us track him down!”.

Jack’s fury instantly extinguished at the mention of the Nightmare, the mention of the undercover work I could commit through this deal. His eyes locked on the rotting floorboards, he slowly nodded as he gradually sank down onto the edge of the bed. “Y-yeah…you’re right…maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, then”, he murmured, seemingly more to himself than me. Sighing again, I sat down, as well, and stared over at him with growing sympathy. He looked like a kicked puppy, whimpering and defenseless. The desire for words burned my throat but nothing rose up from the acid so we just sat there in another round of awkward silence until Jack finally broke the ice. Hesitantly raising his eyes to meet mine, he mumbled softly, “It’s late. You should get to bed”.

I felt the need to protest but my eyelids grew weighted and my limbs decreased in functionality. I had work at this new-found loophole in the morning and sleep would’ve been best under every category of circumstances. With a minute nod, I slowly stood from my vanity chair and trudged over to the mattress, flopping down in defeat and curling up into a little ball in response to a frigid chill from no place in particular. Jack, without a word, stood from the edge of my bed and awkwardly drew the covers up to my chest, careful not to let his fingers so much as graze my flesh. And silent he stayed until I dozed off watching him walk away.

~o~

Three days of nonstop work at the Brigade left me exhausted but my motivation fueled me forward like caffeine in the morning. The interior was musty and antique and the small cubicle I was given reeked of old cigarette smoke and rotting wood furniture. It was not to be discussed how I landed the job or what I was doing there, I was simply to blend in and do the work that was given to me. Or so Anton Ego told me. I, on the other hand, had different plans.

This possession of my own personal secret agenda made me feel rebellious and powerful, like I was some international super spy scoping out a murder case like a detective. It was a feeling I missed all too much. I felt grateful for once that I was Vi Hawkins instead of Violet Amelia Parr, a feeling so foreign I almost forgot it was a good thing.

It was Tuesday, two days before Thanksgiving, and upon receiving my usual mile-high stack of unpublished articles of edit, I inhaled and began to throw my plan into action. The past couple mornings I had studied Anton’s routine patterns, when he left for coffee and to go to the bathroom. He ran like clockwork, always on time, almost inhuman. 9:24am and he rises from his office chair and ventures down the hallway to use the bathroom, then return two minutes later and have his assistant, Bette, fetch him coffee. As I caught his skeletal form rise through the slats of horizontal blinds, I shuffled through my stack of papers and gathered up a hefty amount to clutch to my chest. The copy and fax machines were down the other hallway and if I radiated as little suspicion as possible, everything would go smoothly.

9:24am and my plan was set into action. Hugging the papers to my chest, I slipped out of my tiny cubicle and down the hallway, passing Anton Ego in the process. He barely gave notice to my presence and continued on down the hall. With a small sigh of relief, my peripheral vision scanned the wall for his office door until it caught sight and a small radar bleeped in my brain. Purposefully nicking the heel of my shoe against the grungy carpet, I tumbled to the ground and let the papers fly everywhere. Fortunately, nobody paid me any attention and I went about my business, scrounging around the floor for every stray page. One flew beneath the door of Anton Ego’s office, just as I had hoped.

Gingerly snatching the knob, I creaked the door open as slowly as possible and slid in across the floor, avoiding the rug burn that chafed my bare legs. As I crawled across the floor, I extended my foot out to slowly kick the door shut and then sudden, relieving isolation. I was in. There was no going back. A nanosecond of joy and then it was back to completing my mission.

The gray sunlight through the window fell upon the olive metal filing cabinet in the farthest corner like a heavenly spotlight. Dashing towards it, I scanned the labels on each drawer until I found the right one and yanked on the handle. Nothing. Cursing under my breath, I quickly searched the office for anything that might be of service until I stumbled upon a small, crooked paper clip. Perfect. After straightening it’s malleable metal form, I plunged it into the keyhole and tugged the drawer open, a thick cloud of dust erupting from the pages. Everything was beautifully organized and I squealed softly in delight as nimble fingers thumbed through the files. They all pertained to the Nightmare.

Snagging a manilla folder of articles from some range of dates I couldn’t quite make out, I dropped them on the desk and began flipping through them only to discover something so unsettling I could’ve puked. All of the articles were from 1924. And they were all about the Nightmare. My breath hitched in my throat as my eyes scanned the text at warp speed. Two dozen killed in school shooting, mass killing at some nearby lake, thirteen killed in apartment arson case, even bloody guts found in stuffed in mailboxes one Monday morning. My brain struggled to comprehend the magnitude of this, the definition of this vintage proof. Just as I was frantically struggling for air and sanity, the doorknob turned. My head jolted up. My eyes met the face of the clock on the wall. 9:26am. My time was up. Anton Ego was back. I was dead.

His eyes widened as they met mine and then his brows furrowed in anger. The door slammed shut behind him and he approached my frozen form at warp speed, pinning me to the rotting wood paneling of his office. “What in hell’s name do you think you’re doing in here, girl?”, he sneered, fury in his eyes. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. Frustrated with my inability to respond, he tossed me down into his office chair with more vigor than I expected from a man his age, and glared down at me with the passion of a murderer. It was then that I truly recognized him. My mind flashed back to that dreadful morning, Tony’s guts and limbs all floating in a bathtub of blood like some sort of cannibalistic soup. The two men cleaning the remains, that vulgar Buddy Pine who tried to rape me in the courtyard and a lanky older gentleman who I know knew was Anton Ego. A split-second flashback of his name beneath the title of a more recent Nightmare article shot in my brain. My desperation for answers kicked my body into gear again.

“Answers! I was looking f-for answers!”, I suddenly screamed as Ego advanced to pin me down in the chair. He paused and gave me a most curious look. Deeply inhaling, I straightened my spine so as to look more professional and motioned to the stack of articles on the desk. “You have information about the Nightmare. Valuable information. Information that I want to know about. I am asking you as an employee and, in this case, an equal, to please confide in me with what you know.” I tried as hard as possible to conceal any sign of pleading in my voice. The last thing I wanted was for him to know how desperate I was. I felt somewhat baffled with myself, though, by my use of the word “equal”. Surely, Ego was much more superior than myself in this subject but age, wealth or knowledge was not a deciding factor. In this fucked up world of hatred and murder, there were no multiple ranks of superiority. You were either the killer, the top of the food chain, or you were struggling in a bin of victims like everyone else. Neither money nor expertise could save you from the lurking tendrils of death emitted by the all-powerful dictator of hate. He could find the stupidest reasons to slaughter you and nobody would ever be safe.

Ego stood there mentally digesting my excuse for a moment before standing up straight, grasping my thin arm tight, and pushing me towards the doorway. “You’re a stupid girl who shouldn’t be getting involved in such serious matters. I hired you expecting you to do what you were told, not meander through other’s things like some sneaky brown-noser. You’re lucky I hold strange faith in you. Anyone else I would have fired the moment they stepped foot in this room without invitation. Now go”, he spat out as I stumbled into the wood door with a hollow knock. His tone held immense threat but I was too determined to slip away that easily, even if it was to cost me my spine.

With a shake of my head, I responded, “No. I won’t leave without answers! You have more information stored in that file cabinet than anyone else I know in town. How? How do you know so much about the Nightmare? What the fuck are you hiding?”

Ego seemed quite exhausted with my pestering by now, my desperation striking a crack in his stony exterior, as he rubbed his temples frustratedly and sank down into his chair. “You possess the same passion for this case as I have for many years. You don’t surrender without a fight, do you?”– here, he heaved a sigh–“Fine. If you must know, this Nightmare has been a fascination of mine since I viewed the very first newspaper article regarding him. The Burgess Brigade has been in business since Burgess’s establishment in [] and upon reading of this creature’s irascible acts, I became quite intrigued. I took it upon myself to learn more of this creature’s habits and so I researched. It was then that I discovered this…this thing has been mercilessly killing people for centuries. I found numerous articles on him in the library’s periodical archive, some of them dating as far back as the late 1700’s. This drove my curiosity further, seeing as the possibility of this criminal’s humanity was inexplicable unless the role was inherited throughout generations. So I began collecting pieces, anything I could find regarding him. He had his peaks and his downfalls but whatever I could manage to get my hands on about him, I stole. After many decades, though, no matter the level of malevolence of his acts, people began to just…stop caring. Whether he was considered old news or if it was some ill-advised plan in hopes he’d stop after the lack of attention, I can never be sure. Nobody seemed to care anymore. Nobody except myself. It was then that I decided to take the liberty of founding a prestige funeral home service center specific to all deaths as result of the Nightmare. I hoped that one day this could help track the beast down, maybe stop him, but so far all I’ve ever done was clean the bastard’s messes up. He has very sporadic killing methods, you know. Anyway, I’m not associated with him in any way, I’m just a fascinated audience member who wipes the stage clean after the horror show has ended. So there. That’s all I know of him so there’s no use in pestering me further on the subject. Now get out of my office now before I boot your ungrateful, nosy little ass out onto the wintry streets”.

My heart raced as I attempted to mentally jot down every detail of his words– I was finally being fed the information I so desperately craved. Of course, I craved any information. With a nod and a parting of thanks, I quickly scurried from Ego’s office feeling incredibly satisfied. My face was blush with happiness and a huge grin spread across my face, my eyes twinkling in the buzzing incandescent lights. Coworkers stared at me strangely, probably assuming I got laid for the first time and had no frame of reference to compare Ego to. I could barely think the entire rest of the day but fortunately completed whatever assignments I received, no matter how halfheartedly.

It wasn’t until I ventured home that I began to fall from my educational high. Whether it was the smog flooding my lungs from the industrial plants on the city’s outskirts or just the bitter realization of the image being formed in my mind of the conjoining puzzle pieces, I deduced it was a mixture of both. The house was dark save for the light from the kitchen once I arrived home and my stomach began churning so rapidly, I didn’t dare feel the desire to eat. Rather I sat at the table and poked absently at my meatloaf– the dish never seemed to arouse my hunger anymore ever since that morning of Mom’s vile regurgitation– and whenever anyone questioned what was wrong, I just shook my head and stared on into space, my brows knitted together and my eyes deathly focused.

For hours on end, I remained lost in my thoughts, calculating and fabricating, all until my mind pulsed and ached. Curling up under the covers, my mind still prevented me from deeply desired sleep. Ego said the Nightmare had been around for centuries, since the late 1700’s. That would be equate to three hundred years. No human could possibly thrive for three hundred years– it was biologically impossible. Yes, there was the chance that this role had been portrayed by multiple generations but something inside me twitched towards the impossible. Three hundred years…a wayward criminal alive for three hundred years. The clock on my dresser flashed 3:34am when it all finally hit me, when the mystery resolved itself there in my brain. There was only one person I knew of who had been trapped here for three hundred years: Jack.


	21. 20

Heavy new pours of snow blanketed the town as Helen etched dinky little images into the window’s frost. The dun blur of the city whirred past until they reached an uninviting little building, a box branching off from the hospital. The streetlights illuminating the sign revealed the name: “Burgess Medical Obstetrics and Gynecology” in white, peeling paint and curlicue font, accented with the white clip-art image of a stork, all on a Pepto-Bismol pink background. Bob turned the key in the ignition and exited the car, semi-circumnavigating it’s hood to help his wife from the passenger seat.

The building’s interior was cold and uninviting, everything stark white and sharp angles. The examination room was dimly lit and cast a faint, blue glow. On the sonographer’s command, Helen peeled by the ochre cotton of her shirt to reveal whatever small bump had formed from inside Helen’s lower abdomen. She smiled affectionately down at her bare stomach and reached for her husband’s hand, no doubt a sweet moment. A squirt of frigid gel and the blank-faced sonographer pressed the machine down onto Helen’s flesh, the whir of the old machine filling their ears. The technician’s face was all sharp lines and emotionless expressions, probably having grown tired of seeing into so many women’s uteruses day in and day out and spying the blurry visions of disgusting, budding spawn that she was unable to conceive should she ever get laid regularly. With rough motions, she rotated the machine’s screen so the happy parents could view what could only be described as a catfish trapped in a kidney bean, or more specifically: their baby. Helen beamed with joy at the incomprehensible image and Bob kissed her cheek sweetly before a high-pitched whine erupted from the machine as the image of the catfish began contorting inside the kidney bean and spreading a strange tingled across Helen’s abdomen.

Obviously being provided a jolt of excitement in her otherwise redundant work days, the sonographer’s eyes widened, her curved eyebrows arched, and she quickly turned the screen towards her to inspect the problem, a shock running up from the transducer probe through her arm until it reached her shoulder. She winced in pain and quickly tossed the transducer to the other end of the room and grasped her shoulder, Bob scooping Helen up off the exam bed and away from the scene. The sonographer gave one harsh glare at the couple before billows of smoke began rising from the ultrasound machine and then, with one loud bang, shorted out and spread the odor of burnt metal down the hallway.

“Mr. and Mrs. Parr, it seems as though your baby– or what’s grown so far of it– has created some sort of disruption in our facility that we have never seen before”, a tall woman spoke as she accompanied the couple down the hallway. Helen wrinkled her nose at the smell. The woman lead the pair into an office room where she invited them to sit down at her desk and discuss the circumstances. “From what we saw from your sonogram, your baby is very healthy and growing quite rapidly but still, there must be some strange disturbance that triggered the explosion of our machine–”

“Surely it can’t exactly be categorized as an ‘explosion’, per se”, Helen interrupted. “There was no fire– it just shorted out.”

The woman paused and acknowledged Helen’s correction. “Well, whatever we’re considering it, something caused our machine to act up and while the sonogram said your baby was healthy, it sent strange messages regarding him, or her. Mr. and Mrs. Parr, our ultrasound machines are brand new and state of the art, they’ve all functioned beautifully during the meager year we’ve been in possession of them. There’s no technical excuse for their acting up. Cornelia, your sonographer, said she did spy some unusual movement in your uterus prior to the machine’s technical difficulties, though, and because of that, I’m afraid I’m going to have to jot you down on Dr. Hirano’s list of mother’s to severely monitor.”

Mothers to severely monitor. The title sent a shiver down Helen’s spine and she raised her hands in protest but the woman insisted. Despite these negative results, though, Helen and Bob were still trapped in their little utopia of sunshine and rainbows and impossibility of pregnancy difficulties– nothing seriously dangerous could possibly happen during their pregnancy, they were sure of it. Helen had already birthed two children whose gestation was just as healthy as any other mother, she saw no reason why this one should be any different. And so there, handcuffed to their insanely joyful fairytale beliefs, they’d remain, though ignorance is bliss and the imminent dangers that would eventually approach would then bite harder than intended those who ceased to prepare.

~o~

Sweet aromas of turkey and yams wafted through the creaking old mansion as I overheard Dash speed down the stairs for dinner. “Aren’t you gonna go down there?”, Jack asked, perched on the chair at my vanity, his eyes drilling holes into my sanity. Ever since piecing together the possibility of his being that wretched Nightmare, I hadn’t been able to look at him or even really hold substantial conversations. I told myself it wasn’t true, that there must be someone else out there running amuck with a knife, that maybe the role had been passed down from generation to generation and some mentally insane lunatic was the man behind the mask. Either way, no comfort eased my worry. I shrugged in response to Jack’s question.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”, I said quietly before rising from my seat on the side of the bed. “Don’t bother coming down– there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to see you and it’ll just be a waste of food anyways”, I added before disappearing down the staircase. I could feel the pain pulse through Jack at that last insert but I didn’t care. I couldn’t care less over anything anymore, lately, and I didn’t understand myself. I should’ve been happy to have finally received the information I had so long been pining after yet…yet there was something brooding within it that soured the taste. Maybe ignorance was bliss and if I hadn’t been so desperate for answers, if I had just sat there in tight-lipped illiteracy, I would’ve been better off. The danger impending would’ve stung more severely but the journey along would’ve been happy as hell. And I deserved that, didn’t I? To be happy as hell? I had already been dragged through too much shit, a child forced to comply with the disgusting charades of those who tiptoed about authorities, I didn’t need to get involved in some murder case, as well. If I had just never gotten involved, everything would’ve been better. Yeah…everything would’ve been better…

Snapping from my daze, I was greeted in the kitchen by three pairs of cheerful eyes, an open seat waiting for me right in front of the grand turkey, golden brown and fresh from the oven. For once, food seemed genuinely appetizing and my worries began to melt with the incoming aromas. Sliding into my seat, I began making small, separate piles on my plate, letting the drone of holiday chatter swirl about my ears, until the drone was no longer a drone but suddenly chaos. Peeking up from over the turkey, I spied a quick glance of a green-tinged Mom as she spun around towards the nearest plumbing appliance, the sink, and began gagging up huge bouts of stomach acid and blood. Dash wailed in fear, clamping his eyes shut tight and suctioning his palms to his ears. In an instant, my stomach churned and my heart began to race and all the worries that had began to disintegrate had once again solidified themselves like lead in my stomach. Without a second thought, I rose from my seat and sprinted out of the room, out of the house, down the street and into the city. There was only one place I knew of that was void of all familial tension and that was in the arms of that mysterious stranger, the other ink stain on the rainbow. Koz.

Barreling down the streets, I silently prayed to myself that he was home for Thanksgiving, that he hadn’t departed off to his father’s in Alaska without notifying anyone like he had before. I needed his musky aroma, his strong arms, his kind smile and his metallic eyes. Frantically knocking on his door, I bounced in my spot and suddenly realized there were tears streaming down my face. Relief washed over me when he answered, genuine concern immediately crossing his face at the sight of me.

“Vi, what’s wrong?”, he questioned as he guided me inside. I didn’t even bother to ensure he was alone or wasn’t busy.

Falling weakly into his arms, I looked up at him desperately and murmured, “I want you to make me happy as hell.”


	22. 21

Vivid shapes and colors danced behind my eyelids, a parade of blue squares and red circles and thin, pink ravines. An obnoxious chirping rang in my ears as I slowly creaked my eyes open to view thin horizons of white through the thick slats of horizontal blinds. My muscles ached and my skin smelled salty and felt clammy. A cold hand was pressed against my bare abdomen. I squinted as my vision came into focus and I made the black blobs on the floor out to be dark shirts and old jeans that had been haphazardly thrown onto the carpeting. Running a hand over myself, I discovered I was completely naked.

Memories of the previous night came in erotic flashes, everything black and white and red. Two hands skating over flesh, the taste of sweat as I nibbled at his neck and the tangle of limbs wrestling beneath his black blanket. Surely he’d have to scrub the stains off it. I shifted to peek over at his slumbering form beside me: the way his onyx hair was matted and spiked in all directions, the way his face was still flush from our sexual endeavors. I caught sight of my blue striped underwear tangled and flung over his arm through one of the openings, a drying saliva stain near the waistband. All I could recollect was heat and sweat and limbs, the smell of smoke wafting from burning candles and the faint melody of Sublime’s “Doin’ Time” playing on the stereo in the other room. The tune played on repeat in my mind so aggravatingly, I wanted to bash my head in. A hollow twinge spread through from my chest, a sickening disgust virtually detaching my limbs, as if they were no longer in my possession. Glancing over at the clock on his sleek black nightstand, the time flashed 6:30am. I couldn’t stand being trapped in this godforsaken black hole any longer. Slipping from beneath the grasp of Koz’s hand, I stole my underwear off his arm and quickly redressed myself, hoping I didn’t reek of sweat and intercourse.

Outside, it was irrefutably cold– much colder than it had been. Another new blanket had set in overnight and in some places, the banks reached the tops of first story windows. I could only imagine how bad it was back home. In the city, though, innumerable cars inched down the streets and frantic citizens clashed with one another as they scrambled from store to store, heaving hefty loads of fresh presents in bags slung over their shoulders. Some even wheeled their arms about to use their purchases as weapons with which to falter their opponents. I was out of place here in this materialistic chaos– I had nothing to purcahse except maybe some sanity. Unfortunately sanity was all out of stock. Funny since it didn’t seem to be in anyone’s shopping bag, though. I guess that inadvertently made me no better than the rest of them, then.

Finally accepting the idea that venturing home in this mess was impossible, I spied a tiny, rundown brick building on the side of the road to take shelter in. Just until the mania thinned out and then I’d start off on my journey again. The sign outside read “The Snuggly Duckling”. As I creaked the door ajar, though, I discovered maybe this wasn’t the best hiding place. The entire interior was dark and reeked of cigar smoke, alcohol, and stomach acid. A thick layer of smoke hugged the ceiling and masked a mass of drunken middle-aged men carrying on at a table in the very center of the room. Eying them cautiously, I slunk over to the bar and took a seat on the stool closest to the door. There was another man there, younger, he seemed, sitting a few spaces away from me, bulky and mindlessly chugging liquid from a shot glass. His eyes were sunken in and and framed with dark circles and his fiery hair was spiked like flames. He was so insanely familiar but in the array of what could only be a crisis wasteland, my mind boggled and spurted when recognition was attempted. I just couldn’t manage to put a face to a name.

From his peripheral vision, the man caught me staring and, with a brooding, drunken grin, he spun in his seat to face me better. His smile was demonic, his face almost like that of a very contorted child– immature yet evil. And that’s when the name popped into my mind: Buddy Pine. He looked even more horrible than he had before: the shadows on his face were much darker and his skin much paler, emphasizing one another without initial intention. And what was even more terrifying was that, even in this painfully intoxicated state of his, he still recognized me clear as day.

Then, without even a warning, he hopped down from his stool and approached. With a villainous smirk, he came dreadfully close, ejecting his hot, stale, odorous breath into my face as his hand slid dangerously to my lower waist. “Hey there, Brigade babe. Finally come to fulfill that promise to me?”

“W-what promise?”, I questioned, swatting at his hand as it slid even lower. His hands were cold and clammy.

Buddy’s face recoiled a few inches with a look of over-exaggerated disbelief. “You don’t remember?! Of course you must remember! I promised to get you into the Brigade and in return, you’d do anything I wanted!”, he explained drunkenly, chuckling through his words. The memory of my promise hit like dodge ball: hard and fast and painful. Why had I been so fucking stupid? I was so desperate for answers, I hadn’t thought of the consequences that might erupt from doing whatever it took. There was no way I could escape, not with the immense crowd outside. Buddy surely wouldn’t let me go now. I was absolutely, completely trapped. Maybe if I had just stayed at Koz’s, none of this would’ve happened. Despite everything, I was still not happy as hell.

No matter how much protesting, no matter how much squirming and squealing and swatting I committed to, it was like the two of us were absolutely invisible again. The group of drunken pigs at the center of the room bade no attention to us. The bartenders said nothing save for a few small chuckles. They probably assumed we were dating and that the alcohol made us frisky. Buddy’s hand slid back up to the waist of my pants and began undoing their fastenings, his other hand firmly on my ass. He whispered drunken gibberish in my ear before burying his face in my neck and sloppily skating his tongue across my flesh, wetting my hair a bit in the process. “You taste like…sex…”, he murmured before erupting into intense arousal.

Grasping me by the waist, he snagged me from my seat and dragged me towards a door at the other end of the room, it’s green paint chipping and falling to the floor in flakes. The oak plate screwed to it read “Janitor’s Closet”. I already knew the way this story went and in all honesty, it was not a plot line I ever desired traveling down. Yet again, though, despite all my squirming and squealing, nobody even seemed to spare a minute ounce of concern. I was completely and utterly on my own.

Buddy swung the door open and slammed me down into the hard cement flooring, my flailing arms knocking over a mop and a broom and tipping a grungy bucket to it’s side. With a smirk of satisfaction, Buddy belly-flopped on top of me and began removing my pants once again, his beefy hands sliding up my bare thighs as he chuckled madly. I writhed beneath him, fighting his advances, but his weight was quite the advantage here and he refused to let me escape. My vision began contorting as my eyes darted frantically for any cleaning utensil that could be of use as a weapon, hoping to maybe bludgeon his scalp and knock him unconscious long enough for me to flee. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. My vocal cords had lost all hope of function. Pounding my palm around hopelessly, I searched for absolutely anything. Finally, my hands landed on a spray bottle of glass cleaner and a quick mind improvised. Swinging the bottle around between our faces, I wildly pumped the trigger until the sting of the substance burned Buddy’s eyes and he rolled off of, groaning in agony. Snatching up my jeans, I forced my numb limbs to jolt me from the janitor’s closet and fly right out the bar’s back door.

Collapsing into the exterior wall of the building next door, I heaved for breath and clenched my fists in an attempt to ward off my impending nausea. Little flakes of snow were swirling around in frigid gusts that tingled me to my spine. My knees knocked together and all the world’s colors seemed to shift like a kaleidoscope. My brain felt hollow and my limbs tired, like I was about to pass out. There was one thing that kept me from unconsciousness, though: an insane tingle in my fingers. An urge. Glancing out at the hectic streets, I took one deep breath, swallowed back the bile rising in my throat, and penetrated the craziness.

I took no heed to manners as I weaved through the millions of people, digging my nails into the wool of my coat and praying for extra traction beneath my worn out sneakers as they pounded upon the icy ground. The wind whipped at my blushing face and tears blurred my vision, falling more from impact rather than stress, as home finally came into view. Rotting, wretched, horrible home.

I vaulted myself through the door and straight up the stairs, snatching that little rusted blade from my room and locking myself away in the bathroom. The cool, sharp metal felt like heaven against my supple flesh, the crimson liquid that surfaced acting as reward for my harm and this was when the tears of stress would have started falling. “I hate this place! I hate this place! I fucking hate this place!”, I groaned through gritted teeth as my tears mingled with the blood. If I was gutsy enough, I would’ve just impaled my chest right then and there and let myself die. I didn’t want to be strong anymore. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I looked to those with better lives than I with scorn and envy– why did they have it so easy? Why were they granted passivity? Was I burdened with some irrevocable curse?

Biting my lip hard, I continued to scrape. I wouldn’t have minded if I had I had leaked every drop of blood in my entire circulatory system, had I the discipline. My mind harkened back to the day I first met Jack, the very first words he had ever said to me: “You’re doing it wrong….If you’re trying to kill yourself, slice vertically. They can’t stitch that up.”

Slice vertically. Slice vertically. That’s all I had to do. Just slice vertically and I could finally be done of this wretched, infernal hell. My eyes slowly raised to take one last look at myself in the mirror. I still hated myself. My crooked teeth, my faint freckles, my gangly limbs and the imprint of my ribs. Knobbly knees and sunken in face. Just one slice and I could finally end it. Absorbing my grotesque image for a moment longer, I finally turned back to arm, by now smothered in blood above a red sea in the sink. But something from my peripheral vision caught my attention: the blur of a black mass in the mirror behind me. My hand began to tremble as I felt myself having to force the blade towards my skin and, whipping around, I caught the culprit spying on me. It was none other than the Nightmare himself.

Detecting the terror crossing my face, he advanced swiftly, grasping my shoulders tightly and pinning me to the wall. A million thoughts raced through my mind all in the same nanosecond as I stared back at this horrendous creature, black rubber masking his identity. I could’ve just as easily let him slaughter me right then and there, supply my hunger for agony himself, but I wanted my death to be my own and that didn’t involve him doing my dirty work. My death was to be no one’s fault but my own– I wanted to be my own murderer. But I would not die unvindicated. If there was one thing I’d do before I killed myself, it would be to avenge those who had died before me. And there was only one sufficient way to fulfill that duty: unveil the Nightmare.

Within the split second he seized me, I writhed in his hold before pressing him against the wall with the sole of my shoe, holding him steady as he flailed his arms and fought my grasp. “You’ll go anonymous for the last time!”, I shrieked as I reached forward and clumsily tore at his mask. My hands trembled as I finally indulged in the one answer I had craved most. The taste of victory, though, was not as sweet as expected. There, standing there before me, stood a vision most out of place. While suspicions had ran sporadically, I never expected him to truly be the face behind the felonies. He appeared so strange cloaked in the skintight black of his disguise, contrasting his cool features. Clapping my head over my mouth, I stumbled backward in ultimate disbelief. With a shake of my head, I grasped my churning stomach and stared at him in shock.

“J-Jack…”


	23. 22

Insomnia riddled me senseless as my mind recounted the events of Black Friday. I’d been recounting them for weeks now, insanely though I found no strength to stop. Pressing my forehead against the arctic glass of my bedroom window, I watched absentmindedly as fresh snowflakes flurried through the skies. The world looked so innocent and pure beneath the white facade, masking all the death and destruction that lay beneath it. Quiet footsteps suddenly made themselves present from the other end of the room and the drop in temperature gave way to their identity.

“Don’t you dare bother stepping closer or I swear to fuck, I will tear you shreds.”, I murmured without even so much as glancing at him. He disgusted me, like a pestering little parasite that for so long was thought to be a beneficial ally but now whose true intentions were recently unveiled. Jack had been trying to get my attention for weeks, ever since the incident, but the intense hatred for him that had spawned from the revelation was incomparable. I vowed to myself that I’d never speak to him again.

Jack heaved a sigh and I could feel his eyes glued to my hunched over form. “Violet…”, he spoke, softly and with noticeable cracks in his voice. “Just…just listen to me…none of this is as it seems…if you’d only just give me a chance to–”

“Give you a chance?!”, I shrieked, finally whipping around to face him. There was fury in my veins. “I don’t need to give you a fucking chance, Jack! Don’t you understand what you’ve done?! You’ve killed off innocent people! Some of them were even your friends! My friends! And you expect me to give you another chance, to hear you out, just like that?! When the evidence is right there in front of my fucking my eyes?! You’re batshit crazy!”

Jack winced as my screams pelted him hard. I didn’t care. I hoped he was hurt. With a shaky sigh, he wrapped his arms around his abdomen and sunk down onto the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest and sniffling away tears. I had never seen him so depressed before. I didn’t care. He deserved it. Smirking at his misery, I turned back to my idle show.

“Violet, just….please…listen…”, he whimpered. I didn’t turn my head. With another sigh, he finally said, “F-fine…you don’t have to listen…but just because you’re not paying me any attention, that doesn’t mean I won’t talk anyways. I’ve lived m-my entire life being ignored, this isn’t any different. But I did not kill those people, Violet. I swear to you. Some of them were my friends just as they were yours. I-I know all the evidence points to me but I swear, Violet, I did not do this. I did not kill those people.” He spoke with such desperation, I almost believed it was true. But there was no way it could be. He hadn’t presented any evidence proving he didn’t do it, yet all signs proved him guilty. There was no one else to blame but him. He was the culprit worthy of a thousand murders. He was the embodiment of death and hell itself. He was the Nightmare.

I didn’t want to listen to him but his anguish was so loud, I could barely imagine him invisible. I couldn’t stand to look upon him but I opened my ears to his plea. With a deep breath, he continued. “I-I was framed, Violet. Set up. The day of Sandy’s funeral, when you said you saw the Nightmare near the cemetery– how could you possibly believe it was me when I was right there beside you? I-I went there to inspect the place, with Tooth, to see if we could f-find any evidence of who he m-m-might be or where he might’ve g-gone…I swore I saw the black mass near the trees…Tooth warned me not to…I didn’t listen…I couldn’t let him get away, if that’s who it was! S-so I followed him…I followed him and then…then everything went black. I-It was so cold and…and so dark…and I was so scared. I couldn’t feel the forest floor beneath me anymore and…and I didn’t know where I was. W-when…when I woke up…I was in an alleyway….behind some bar…it was dark, nighttime, and….and there were words on the one wall…words written in blood…horrible words….‘Try and catch me’, they read…I couldn’t find Tooth anywhere. I-I was scared a-and alone…so I decided to try and find my way home, to find you. I-I saw you run out Thanksgiving night and th-thought…I thought you might know something and…and I just wanted to see you, anyways….I-I knew something didn’t f-feel right when I woke up but…but I was so frantic I never realized w-what I was wearing until I caught m-my reflection in your mirror…you had every right to react the way you did…Violet, just know…I would never want to put y-you in danger…”

I sat there for a moment or two waiting for him to continue but he finally silenced himself. Staring out at the wintry world outside, I took advantage of the blank canvas to help me comprehend my thoughts. His story seemed legitimate but then again, criminals are always fantastic liars. Shaking my head, I finally turned to look at him again. “J-Jack…”, I said, my voice low and dangerous like the growl of a jungle cat. “I have never trusted you and I see now why I never should. Whatever we may have shared in the past, whatever stupid acts I gave in to, they all mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. I should’ve never even gotten involved with you and your shenanigans in the first place. Fuck…”–here I shook my head and averted my eyes. I spoke the next words more to myself than anyone else. “Trusting some young, attractive stranger with white hair…makes me no better off than my own father…” My mind flashed back to that day I caught him cheating, the day that truly began this entire shit-fest. She had him wrapped around her finger, made him believe he had reason to trust her before she went and spoiled our happy balance. And Jack was really no different.

A tense, uneasiness distributed itself then and as I shifted in my seat, Jack could detect that discomfort. He slowly stood and came closer but I shot him a glare so deadly he recoiled. We stayed there like that for what felt like centuries, conducting this strange, sadistic little puppet show. I was the master and he was the toy; my eyes guided his movements. Finally, his presence wavered my composure, like a little bomb erupting inside my chest, shrapnel shooting up through my throat and out of my mouth in the form of harsh words which pierced him brutally. “Are you just gonna fucking stand there like that?! Fuck, just…just get out! Just leave me alone, Jack!”

He clenched his eyes shut tight and fought back another wave of tears. “Please…don’t do this, Violet…”, he whispered desperately, tensing every muscle in his body.

“Leave me alone, Jack!”, I shouted back at him.

“Violet, no!”, he shouted back through heart-wrenching tears. His eyes strained mine for some glimmer of hope that I’d stop screaming at him and just break down into tears, drop my walls and let him hug me. I was through being weak. With one last groan of frustration, I seized the lamp residing on nightstand and hoisted it above my head.

“Leave! Me! Alone!”, I shrieked through my own sobs and, with my eyes closed tight, chucked the lamp towards him. The ceramic erupted into a million sharp, tiny shards whose fall casted an array of pings and clatters like wind chimes across the floor. Breaking down into a mess of hearty weeping, I peered over to survey the damage. There was not a single ounce of blood nor shredded flesh. Nothing but glass debris. Jack was nowhere in sight.

I never expected his physical demise to be quite so easy. What I did expect, though, was never delivered. I should’ve felt elation. I should’ve been happy to have finally rid the world of such a vile blackguard. But something within me felt so…incomplete. Unfinished. Like there was still more to be done. Like what had already been committed was not gratifying enough. Like maybe this wasn’t the end, that the hardships were not yet over. I prayed that that wasn’t the case. Regardless, an unease still swept over me, a discomfort so uninviting I knew but one way to shake the pain. The same method I had used every other time, the only method that made me feel even remotely happier: Koz.

Scooping up my bag and tossing my coat over my shoulders, I took one last longing look to the broken lamp scattered across the floor. I had expected there to be blood. I wanted there to be blood. Without a second glance, I barreled down the street to Koz’s house.

Despite my early escape Thanksgiving night, he seemed grateful for my return and wrapped his arms around in me in fond embrace. His fingers ran through my hair as he led me inside, whispering apologies in my ear for all the tribulations I had been burdened with since me and my family’s arrival here to Burgess. I shook my head and told him he was crazy, that none of it was his fault. And truly, it wasn’t. He was not the murderer of a million people nor the rapist impregnating my mother. Any questionable events regarding him had legitimate explanations I was more than welcome to believe. But as we stood there hugging, I began speculating those events. They did have legitimate explanations, didn’t they? The unease began to return.

Pulling back a few inches from him, I caressed his cheek and brought his attention to my words rather than my consolation. “Koz…th-that one day we were, um, we were in your greenhouse…and I found the corpse of that baby beneath the flowers…w-was she…was she the same girl in that picture there?” I pointed over to the image on the mantle. Koz eyed me curiously and glanced back at the picture.

“Why do you want to know?”, he questioned back. Slowly pulling from his grasp, I approached the image and studied it.

“Just out of curiosity…they look an awful lot alike…”, I replied.

Koz approached me uneasily and gently took the frame from my hands, setting it back on the mantle and perfecting it’s place. “If you must know, that baby was my daughter: Emily Jane. A few years back, I was in an incredibly serious relationship with a beautiful girl named Seraphina, the woman in the picture. She was….she was simply breathtaking. Somewhere along the line, though, I…I accidentally got her pregnant. Her parents were furious and kicked her out of her home. Loving her like I did, I invited her to live with me, much to my father’s own objections. I was determined to stay by her side during the entire pregnancy, though, as well as after. But there were numerous complications. Seraphina’s days were hard and she…she died in childbirth…Sera had picked out the baby’s name and so Emily Jane she’d stay. I was so heartbroken by Sera’s death, I-I could barely handle the pain. But Emily Jane gave me hope. She was the light in the darkness to which I could find my way. I was prepared to give her my everything, to raise her on my own and be the best father any little girl could ask for but…but complications in the pregnancy left her born sickly and frail and….and my little Emily Jane was taken from me, as well…A-after that I…I was left with nothing…”, Koz explained.

My heart broke to see the anguish in his face as Koz recounted his past’s tragedy. I assumed he no doubt loved Emily Jane far too much to let her be cremated and reduced to ash, nor to leave her in a cemetery. That would explain her corpse in the greenhouse. Placing a delicate hand on his shoulder, I kissed his cheek and apologized for his hardships. “I-I can understand your pain…my ex-boyfriend, Tony…he was one of the victims of the Nightmare…we broke up for reasons I can’t quite explain but…but he came here to try and win me back and…and he was so sweet, I never should’ve left him. When I woke up the next morning, he was…dead…it was a horrible experience.” Koz nodded in understanding and returned the kiss to my cheek.

“I loved her so much, Vi.”, Koz murmured, reaching out to caress her image in the frame. “She was my everything. My queen. I would’ve done anything for her.” I smiled softly at his loving words towards Seraphina before Koz then turned to face me. “Vi”, he started, staring down at me in all seriousness. “I loved Seraphina and I know nobody can ever replace her but…but this castle is so empty without a queen to reign beside me. Vi, I know this may be hasty but please, say you’ll join me. Promise me you’ll be my new queen.” And with that, Koz reached into his back pocket and revealed a small, black velvet box which, inside, housed a beautifully ornate ring, shimmering onyx that blended in with the rest of his decor. My breath hitched at the sight of it, at his words, everything.

“K-Koz…I-I don’t know…”, I stammered. How could I accept his marriage proposal? I was only sixteen, barely even legal enough to be married in the first place. I reached out to delicately graze the beautiful gemstone with my index finger, contemplating how I was to say no. I couldn’t possibly accept such a betrothal. It was too much.

Koz inched himself closer and grasped me tightly, looking into my eyes. In the poorly lit room, they were almost black and intimidating, exactly like the ring he held in his free hand. A small smirk spread across his face and then, in low, sultry tones, he murmured, “Come on, Violet. Say you’ll marry me. Say you’ll be my sweet little Nightmare queen…I won’t accept anything less than yes.”

His words rendered me immobile. Say you’ll be my sweet little Nightmare queen…


	24. 23

Koz’s face was mere inches from mine, danger glinting in his now-ebony eyes. My heart was pounding, my mind racing, his words repeating themselves over and over again in my head. Say you’ll be my sweet little Nightmare queen… So Jack was telling the truth earlier. He was being honest and I wouldn’t listen. Guilt plagued me almost as wholly as fear. The little onyx ring shimmered back at me from it’s velvet box, prodding me for my answer. “I-it was you…this entire time…it was you….you set Jack up!”, I said, first murmuring but then screaming in accusation.

Koz smirked back at me as he pinned me to the wall. “But of course! Did you really believe that I was that innocent? That that cannibalism thing was just a trick? That all that unfolded before you was the work of some pretty little white haired boy?! He’s nowhere near intelligent enough to devise a wonderful plan such as this! And it’s all for you, my dear. Vi, think of the wealth you can inherit marrying me. Think of the love! Think of the sex! Which you certainly seemed to enjoy too much for your own good that beautiful night at the beach”, he explained. My stomach flipped– so Koz was the one who raped me then. And then that must mean…no. No, this was all too insane.

Beginning to hyperventilate, I averted my eyes from his and shook my head vigorously. “No…no, no!” then, with a groan of anger, I met his eyes again. “I’d never marry you! I’d rather die than be with an irascible bastard like you!”

Fighting from his grip, he just leaned closer and with a fatal smirk, whispered seductively, “That can be arranged.” A sharp pain jabbed me in the shoulder, spreading a tingle all the way through my chest as fresh, warm blood skated down my arm. I gasped from the shock of it as another hit me harder in the stomach, sending a wave of pain through my entire body. My knees buckled and I went limp in Koz’s arms, gasping for air as he tore the weapon from my flesh. “Next time you ought to rethink the consequences”, he sneered before releasing his hold on me, sending my flaccid body to collide with the floor like a loveless rag doll. My eyes weakly shifted to watch Koz’s blurry figure as he gingerly dropped the knife to the ground and disappeared from his home. And then there was nothing but loneliness.

The room shifted and blurred as I grew closer and closer to unconsciousness, my breathing uneven and weak. I could feel my fingers twitching uncontrollably as they rested in the puddle of my own blood that had spilled across the floor. Funny, for the past few weeks I had so desperately craved death yet now that I was granted it, much like everything else, the taste was much better than expected. Bitter and painful. I was angry with Koz for everything that had happened, everything that he had done. I still didn’t quite understand but I didn’t have time to further educate myself on his role in the situation. I barely had time for anything else. There was one thing I did still have time for, if my depleting energy would allow. With a grunt from all the effort and pain of moving, I tenderly pulled my phone from my pocket, sliding it through the puddle of blood, and forced myself to dial the first number on my contacts list: home.

Each ring that nobody answered on sent another wave of pain through my body, progressively stronger than the last, until finally there was an answer. “Hello?”

My heart began racing. I was angry at Koz but more than that, I was angry with myself because I hadn’t given Jack the chance to explain. I was so stubborn in my beliefs, I refused to listen when he was right all along. Even before when he kept warning me Koz was trouble, I didn’t listen because I refused to believe he could ever do anything bad. Despite our numerous spats, Jack was always there and he had always cared. I was the one who worsened his reputation. I was the one who viewed him worse than he was. Everything was my fault. And now here he was, on the other end of the phone, willing to listen unlike myself with him. I could barely find the strength to move my lips but willed them to function anyways. In a hoarse, cracking voice, I spat out, “J-Jack…Koz….H-help…”

And all it took were those three simple words. I overheard Jack cuss under his breath and then the phone line went flat. In my current state, I couldn’t guarantee to myself he’d come to my rescue like a frigid wintry prince but the parts of body not racked with incomparable pain were bombarded with hope.

Eternities passed and tears blurred my vision as I laid there in agony. I couldn’t even find the verve to curl up and rock my body to dilute the pain. All I could do was lay there sprawled across the floor and wait. Tears streamed silently down my face for I was unable to muster strength enough to sob. Any movement I committed was done unconsciously, a result of my nerves having a freak out session. I could feel my heart rate slowing just as a flood of bright light entered the room from the direction of the front hallway. I didn’t have the energy to glance over.

“Violet!”, a voice shouted, loud and echoing, and then an angelic figure with sapphire eyes knelt down beside him, his face glistening with wet. Maroon blood stained the knees of his tawny pants as he inched towards me, murmuring my name repeatedly and gently scooping me into his arms. With delicate touch, he grazed my wounds to inspect the damage before nodding silently. “Well, I can honestly say this is the most unattractive I’ve ever seen you!”, he joked through his tears, trying to keep himself calm. If I had the energy, I would’ve laughed along with him. His lips gently brushed my clammy forehead before he lifted me into his arms and pressed his hand hard against my stomach in an attempt to at least prolong the bleeding. And then there was movement– fast, jolting movements– and bright light and noise. I didn’t have the time nor the stamina to comprehend exactly what was going on but I kept my eyes focused on Jack, the way his face contorted as he weeped, the wind that blew back his snow white hair, the pearly teeth which bit down on his bottom lip so hard color actually surfaced to his skin. And that was the last thing I remembered seeing before everything faded to unforgiving blackness. 

~o~

Everything was cold and dark. I still couldn’t find the strength to shift my body, if I even still had a body, but I could feel something stiff and thin enveloping me, wrapped tightly around my body like a cocoon. There was a constant pinching in the back of my hand but it didn’t bother me nearly as much as the pain I had endured before. My shoulder barely ached but the left side of my stomach sent agonizing shots of pain throughout my entire body every time I felt myself inhale. Inhale. Breathing. Breathing was good. Breathing meant I was still alive…didn’t it?

What even constitutes the state of being alive? Is life measured by years, by ability? Or by risk? Or is being alive simply the process of having breathing lungs and a beating heart? Is it categorized by mental presence, or physical presence? Or can you be alive without really being present at all? I think that’s where I stood in this moment: I wasn’t really present at all. I was just floating through some dimensional atmosphere far off in a black hole someplace, all alone with nobody but my thoughts. My thoughts and the sudden beeping that began fading into earshot. A steady, simple noise at steady, simple intervals. I could feel myself furrow my brows in aggravation at the atrocity of it, the sound already aggravating me only seconds after hearing it. Then there was brightness, a sickening light which made it all the way past my eyelids and illuminated those same shapes, the blue squares and red circles and pink ravines, until they began dancing to the music of the constant, steady beeping. And then there were vocals, incomprehensible lyrics singing off-key and along. Multiple voices, multiple murmurs. A warm, squishy object applied pressure to where the pinching in my hand was and then something warm and wet grazing my fingers. It was as if I was slowly feeling alive again.

Suddenly, the brightness and the beeping became all too much. I gritted my teeth and knitted my brows together more drastically before finally willing my eyes open, groaning in pain from the immensely bright sunlight.

“Violet?! Sweetheart?!”, a familiar voice exclaimed in wavering concern. The voice’s owner leaned closer, nothing but blurry masses of color as my eyes struggled to adjust, and I suddenly grew aware of something hard and uncomfortable plunged into my nostrils that triggered me to wiggle my nose in discomfort. The pressure on my hand increased as the face grew clearer and I suddenly recognized the presence of four others, as well. Everything slowly clarified and then I recognized not just what was present and how many but who.

Mom erupted in sobs as she kissed our intertwined palms again and Dad and Dash were overcome with relief from behind. A doctor stood before a nearby machine and twiddled with the mechanism. And then, far off from the rest of the group, sat a lonely wayward boy with white hair upon the windowsill, his cheeks stained with tears and his blue eyes drenched in tearful relief. I couldn’t quite recollect everything that had happened before the blackness encumbered me but all I do remember were those two blue eyes and that tear-stained face, a plea for hope and recovery.

Throughout the day, faces changed and visitors came and went but I honestly cared little for their presence. There were only two people I really cared to spend time with that day: Jack and my mom. As visiting hours ended, I slowly drifted off back into slumber even though I barely felt tired. The room was frigid with the good kind of cold.

There was emptiness when I awoke the next morning, before sunrise. The sky was a deep purple tinged with hints of pink and lightening near the horizon and I admired the beauty before noticing the room wasn’t completely empty. There, in the arm chair beside my bed, sat Jack. A small, shy smile spread across his face when he realized I was awake and he slowly scooted closer.

“H-how are you feeling?”, he murmured softly as he gently took my hand. I returned the small smile in response to his touch.

“F-fine…”, I choked out, my throat dry. Jack leaned over and wheeled the hospital bed’s tray closer towards me, silently notifying me of the presence of food. The nurse must’ve brought it in when I was sleeping.

“You, uh, you should eat. Keep your strength up”, Jack suggested as he shifted to fix my pillows so I could sit up easier. I shook my head before he could complete his preplanned action.

“I-I’m not hungry”, I spoke, reaching a weak arm out to shove the tray away. My abdomen still ached, especially upon inhalation, and my stomach churned at the thought of food consumption. Jack just narrowed his eyes and scooted the tray back in place, insisting I eat. Feeling as weak as I was, I was in no state to keep up an argument. With a sigh of defeat, I shakily reached out towards the meal.

I still wasn’t hungry but more than anything, I was shocked. Jack was being so kind even after I had treated him like shit. He poked the straw into my juice box and I glanced over at him as I sucked the liquid from it’s container. “I-I, um…I’m sorry I sc-scared you….earlier…w-with the whole…you know”, I stammered. My voice released smoother now that my throat had been relieved of it’s internal drought, but it’s stability still wavered from weakness. “I-I should’ve b-believed you…y-you were right all along a-and I–” I started but here Jack gently pressed his index finger to my lips.

“Shh, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You had every right not to believe me– the way he set me up made it pretty hard to believe anything else. And don’t worry, you didn’t scare me. You petrified me.”, he responded, forcing a joke though it failed to break his seriousness. We sat there for a while in kind, quiet conversation as he helped the unenthusiastic patient consume her breakfast and while I still felt guilty over not believing him before, his presence was insanely comforting.

“I, uh, I was really fucking worried about you, Violet”, Jack started later on as he cleaned the remains of her breakfast off the tray and slid them into the trash. “You were unconscious for so long, we almost thought life support was the only thing keeping you here”, he explained, his voice cracking a bit as he spoke. His face blushed red upon realizing his little vocal impediment and he tried to pretend as if it hadn’t occurred but I thought it was cute.

“H-How long was I asleep for..?”, I asked hesitantly. I almost didn’t want to know. It could’ve been days, weeks, months. It was terrifying to think the world was moving on while I was stuck there trapped in an unconscious daze. Jack refused to meet my eyes as he answered.

“A-a week and a half…”. My eyes widened and I gently gripped his hand. Then, almost as if reading my mind, he continued, “Th-there was a couple things you did miss while you were, um, unconscious. Remember when I told you of how Tooth and I were at the cemetery Thanksgiving night inspecting and trying to track down the Nightmare?” I nodded. “Well, she’s been missing since. Or at least until the night before last. Police found her in the city drenched in blood and foraging around the neighborhood like some…some wild animal. She’s in stable condition and was returned home but a blow to her head caused her to lose all her memory of everyone and everything. I mean, sure she remembers basic stuff like the alphabet and how to eat like a dignified human being but I mean, just….she doesn’t remember us or Burgess or even her family. I mean, I guess part of it’s a good thing. That just means she has no recollection of any of the tragic stuff that’s happened, like Sandy’s death, but–”

“But she forgets Sandy….”, I interrupted. My heart wrenched from the thought. Her and Sandy had been friends since childhood before his murder. To think that now, after everything, she forgot he even existed…I gripped Jack’s hand a little tighter in sympathy towards her. “What about the others? Are they fine? A-and Koz…? Has he gotten what he deserves yet?”

Jack shook his head. “The others are perfectly fine. Just aggravated. And as for Koz… well, nobody’s seen him since. Fortunately, though, between you and Tooth the police finally started caring enough to pay more attention to the case and have started trying to track the bastard down now that we can match a name to a face. And Nick and Ed are doing everything they can to help, too.”

I nodded in response. “Good…that’s good”, I murmured. But in all actuality, this wasn’t good. Koz was still out there and Burgess still wasn’t safe. He could be anywhere and he could go anywhere. There was still no requiem for this godforsaken city. And Jack could sense my discomfort as I bit my lip and held his hand a little closer. “I don’t think I can ever trust again…”, I whispered, staring off into space. “After all this, I don’t think I can trust anyone or anything again…ever…”

“Sshhh, shhh, don’t say that…please…”, Jack whispered back, brushing a few stray strands of hair from my face. I shook my head, distancing his hand.

“No, Jack…I just…we never should’ve come here in the first place. I never should’ve come here in the first place. If we would’ve just stayed put, then…”, I started before my voice trailed off. Staying in our old town would’ve been just as bad after the chaos we caused there. It was almost as if everyone we went, there was death and destruction in our wake.

Jack stayed there at my bedside for a few moments but I could feel an energy pulsing through him, a motion he needed to commit though he was hesitant. Finally, he took a deep breath and rose to sit on the edge of my bed. There was urgency in his eyes but it was an expression of tenderness rather than danger. I was fearful of whatever he was going to do or say next and felt shivers rise up from within me in fear and anticipation but as he opened his mouth to speak, I found it impossible to escape. “Violet, I–”

Just as the words were about to leave his mouth, Mom waddled in with a small smile on her face. “Hey, Vi. Sorry I didn’t get here earlier– there was a ton of traffic on the main road.” Her equilibrium was off from the pregnancy but her stomach was only really like that of a small, deflated kickball poking from beneath her shirt. Jack averted his eyes from mine in embarrassment and quickly scooted back over to his place at the windowsill upon my mom’s arrival. Something within me cursed her untimely appearance for interrupting Jack and I. While I was afraid of whatever he was going to say, I did grow kind of curious from his display. Regardless, I was grateful for my mother’s arrival. She seated herself in the lounge chair Jack had been in when I awoke and scooted closer to kiss my forehead and ask me how I slept.

We sat there and conversed for a hours until suddenly I realized Jack was no longer in the room. Though I hadn’t been paying attention to him since my mother arrived, I felt myself slightly panic at his disappearance. His presence, whether attended to or not, was, and I hated saying this, but it was more comforting than my own mother’s. I figured he just disappeared to give the two of us privacy but I couldn’t help but hope he’d hurry back soon. And meanwhile, throughout the entire duration of our conversation, there was some inkling of discomfort flurrying about inside my mother, a little insect she wanted so desperately to release but was too afraid to. Finally, when I paused to search for Jack, she decided it the best time to free herself of the burden.

“Violet, sweetheart, there’s, uh, there’s something I have to tell you”, she started, drawing me back to her attention. I gazed at her with concern and fear. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair before moving her spare hand down to rest upon her small belly bump. “Well, you see, in every woman’s life there are occasionally times when certain…things happen. Inexplicable things. Strange things that make you think twice about the world. I know you probably wouldn’t care much but one day in the future, you might have a moment much like this one– I hope to heaven you don’t but one day, somehow, you might– and I’d rather have you go into it prepared with this knowledge rather than blindly move forward. Somehow, through some inexplicable phenomenon or something, this baby is not your father’s. I-I don’t know how it even happened, really, but…but your father and I are going to raise it like our own and treat him no differently. I still can’t even comprehend how it happened, though– the moment was more like a dream, or some nightmare, that I never thought had any impact on my consciousness like it did. I just remember the first week we moved here, one morning I was folding laundry and I don’t quite remember what happened or how this came about but it was suddenly like I was…well, um, there was a very intimate moment and that’s all you need to know…but it felt like dream and I couldn’t see who the other person was…it was like there was no other person there at all, but just…just some invisible being. Anyway, I figured I was just tired from the change in time zones and passed out on the bed in the middle of my work, and that maybe I got a little high off the fabric softener and started hallucinating or something but I never expected all of that to be real until I found out I was actually, in fact, pregnant. I know this probably doesn’t mean much to you, Vi, and that you’ll probably be off to college before the baby even starts to become an actual person or anything but I just… well, I just felt like it would be best to tell you since you’re older now and everything and just–”

“Mom, I knew”, I interrupted through her rambling. In an instant, she paused and stared at me in disbelief.

“Y-you…you knew?”, she replied. I nodded.

“That morning I woke up outside, alone. I came into the the house thinking everyone had left me but then found you being fucked senseless and…and I’m sorry, Mom. I should’ve done something, I should’ve…I should’ve called the cops or fought him off or…or…”

Mom just shook her head and interrupted, “No, no, no, sweetie! I didn’t expect you to do anything and even if I did, it’s okay. What’s done is done and without that, your father and I wouldn’t be blessed with another beautiful baby. No matter what you would’ve done, I know it would’ve been the right decision. I wouldn’t want you getting involved in something like that, anyways.”

I sighed and averted my eyes from her. “It seems I already have, though.” Mom just smiled softly and gently rubbed the back of my hand with her thumb. I hadn’t realized it until then but glancing over at the clock on the wall, it was already midnight and I was suddenly much more exhausted than I expected myself to be. Mom just kissed my forehead and gathered her things before departing for back home. Part of me hated to see her leave, especially after our little moment of honesty and bonding, but the other half was happy for the solace of isolation. My tired eyes drifted over to the window to spy the city laid out outside and lit up beautifully like a Christmas tree, reminding me that Christmas was really only a week away. My heart suddenly filled with a tiny glimmer of hope that Christmas would bring with it a new year void of all tragedies such as those witnessed in the past twelve months. That maybe Burgess without the Nightmare, without Koz, would prove to be a better place than it’s initially impressed to be. For that night, looking out upon central Burgess, I couldn’t quite grasp how someplace that looked so beautifully metropolitan on the surface at that moment could be such a hellhole underneath it all.


	25. 24

The slow drone of bumblebees reached my ears as my pen skated across the paper in messy cursive. This was the way life was now. It was Christmas Eve when I arrived home from the hospital, the house adorned with cheery lights and vintage decorations. It should’ve been the moment when everything began growing brighter, when live grew more vivid in color, but instead that night I was racked with innumerable anxiety attacks, trembling uncontrollably and keeling over to puke up whatever I tried to keep down. It was the sole fact that things were slowing down that triggered me most: the calm spell gave way to thoughts that recognized the magnitude of the past couple month’s occurrences. And for months after there was nothing but trauma and anxiety.

I had told myself once that horrible Black Friday that I was through being weak. I was determined to die and that I’d be my own murderer. I wanted nobody but myself to be responsible for my death. In a way, though, all that made me more weak. I recognized there was a problem and I wanted to opt out of it. I was through dealing with something that was my own to endure. It wasn’t until that Christmas Eve that I realized all that time I thought I was being strong and making a smart decision, I was really only acting weaker than I thought I was before. No matter the consequences, now I became fragile and broken. Anxiety guided me through life and attacks me with the coming of night. The Nightmare thrived in the darkness and the coming of night reminded me of him.

Jack had been my savior, though. Throughout all the wretched months, he stayed beside me. One night during an attack, he caught me slicing my skin in the bathroom and his usually carefree facade grew cold and stern, pricking the blade from my fingers and lifting high above my head so I couldn’t reach. He had always been taller than me. “Promise me you’ll never cut yourself again”, he persuaded. I vowed I wouldn’t. As a substitute, writing became the way of life: a way I could sort out my thoughts without harming myself. They were mostly emotional pieces ranting of my trauma and my feelings but Jack would only read the ones I approved him to and he didn’t ask questions. Actually, he never asked questions. On the nights when anxiety would disturb my peace like an earthquake, he’d do whatever made me comfortable and never asked questions. And that was what became of life all the way until summer.

It had been a slow day and the view from my bedroom window had grown lush with vegetation as the snow began to melt. The calendar only read April but small patches were still iced with slush. As the sun dipped behind the horizon, the unforgiving darkness soon lurked forward. I felt a rush of shivers begin to rise from deep inside me as worries started haunt my mind once again. Jack was seated on the chair at my vanity per usual, this time confusedly inspecting a plastic tray of makeup, sticking his finger in the eyeshadow and curiously swiping it across his cheeks. He still didn’t quite understand feminine products like makeup and pads and his friendship with Tooth never made him feel open enough to ask about them but with me, the exploration was permitted. Chuckling a bit at himself in the mirror, he glanced over at me. “Violet, this isn’t how you’re supposed to wear this shit is it?” he asked before detecting my unease. He quickly put down the makeup and flew to my side. “Hey, is everything okay?”

I shook my head. “No…I’m worried…”, I murmured. I gazed over at Jack with glossy eyes and crawled into his lap. My body began to enter it’s usual ritual of steady trembles, shivers that increased in intervals, yet, ironically, Jack’s presence helped numb the unease. Resting my head on his shoulder, he delicately reached up to brush his fingers through my hair and gently rock us back and forth. “She’s been so pale and fragile lately…I’m so scared this baby is taking a huge toll on her health…”

Jack knew exactly what I meant and kissed my forehead in comfort. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Your mother’s birthed two other children before, this one won’t be any different. It’s okay, you’re gonna be alright. Everything’s gonna be alright. You have to believe me…”, he whispered softly.

Looking up at him, I whispered back in a strained voice, “But…but how do you know…?”

Here, Jack sighed and met my eyes, softly caressing my cheek. “I don’t”, he whispered back. “But we have to have hope.” Slowly averting my eyes from him, I curled up deeper into him and shook my head minutely.

“Impossible. I have no hope left”, I mumbled, burying my face into his hoodie. He silently wrapped his arms around my fragile body and kissed my bare shoulder. Tidal waves of emotion began washing over me– terror and vulnerability and guilt. “I’ve lost all hope in ever trusting anyone again. No matter what, everyone’s always going to lie to me or betray me in one way or another.”

Jack just tenderly shushed me and held me closer. “No, that’s not true. You have me.” My mind harkened back to the days when we first met, when I didn’t trust him. The way he resembled her color schemes so closely from a distance: the unnatural hair and unnatural attractiveness. If it hadn’t been for her, we wouldn’t have never had to have come to this godforsaken town in the first place. We had a wonderful, healthy balance between who we were and who we were perceived to be and she faltered that when she bent the pillars of trust which were so weak to begin with. It was then that I finally felt the grand confession bubble up inside me.

With a shake of my head, I replied, “I never used to trust you”

“Well, trust is something gained, not given”, Jack responded softly. I shook my head again and stared off into the distance.

“No…I never trusted you not because you were a stranger but…but because you reminded me of someone who completely ruined the concept of trust.”, I explained. Jack looked to me curiously, signalling me to continue. “Her name was Mirage”, I began, keeping my eyes locked on the distance. “She was a brooding, manipulative little whore with white hair just like yours. She gave me the false perception that everyone who was attractive with white hair was a complete asshole who deserved to die in hell like I thought she did. She…she manipulated my dad with sex, broke a promise, and ruined our lives…we’re not good people, Jack…my family and I…”

“Violet, don’t say that. Please”, Jack pleaded but I silenced him as I continued.

“We did good things but we did them for bad people. Most criminals…they get all the recognition. They’re the star you see on stage. But nobody bothers to think about the people who helped put that play together– the set designers, the playwrights, the costume designers, the light technicians and the music ones. All anybody cares about are the people on stage. And I guess…I guess in our case that was a good thing, for a time…the concept was much the same with criminals…there were people who helped make robberies and murders happen. Me and my family…we used to be those people…There was a whole slew of us, an undercover community. We helped commit crimes and got part of the profits. We were manipulators ourselves. And spies. Dad was on steroids and used that to attract women so he could seduce them and eventually squeeze information from them before….before sometimes strangling them to death…and Mom…she was a hooker…code name Elastigirl for her flexibility…she did the same as Dad…D-Dash…he was a messenger in trainer and me…I-I was a rookie spy…the most dangerous job of all…if anyone caught me…th-they’d kill me on the spot…”

A quick flashback erupted in my mind just then of when I first started my undercover job. I was only twelve and I was terrified– Mom didn’t want to make me go but Dad insisted. He claimed it was family duty, that the police were getting smarter and more undercovers were needed to successfully fulfill more felonies. I was even tinier and the time and could fit into small spaces with the greatest of ease but I distinctly remembered Mom grasping my shoulders and looking me in the eyes while on the verge of tears. “Violet, sweetheart, promise me you’ll be safe, okay? You know the bad guys on the TV shows you always used to watch? Well, these guys aren’t like those guys. They won’t exercise restraint because you’re a child. If they find you…they will kill you.”

Looking back, I never realized the intensity of her words and the effect they’d have on myself at such a young age. They terrified me but they kept me from getting killed. Or at least up until now. Why hadn’t I remembered her words when I was struggling with Koz and all that Nightmare shit? He was still out there, after all this time.

Meanwhile, Jack gazed upon me in disbelief: he must’ve never expected to hear me admit I was a criminal. And really, my past made me no better than Koz himself. We were both wanted by the police, both outcasts and felons. We both deserved death row. Inhaling, I continued on. “B-but I’ve been the most mentally unstable…maybe my job made me worse or created it altogether but…but I have paranoia and intense vulnerability…I hate myself and I cut my skin…I’m a horrible monster, a disease, and I deserve to be killed…put in a mental hospital and euthanized or something…I’m ugly and…and I’m nowhere near good enough and…and everywhere I go, there’s always death and destruction and chaos. I’m like a walking bomb…”

Jack didn’t give me a chance to finish, but instead interrupted. “Violet, listen to me, you are none of those things. I don’t care what anyone says, you are not a monster and you are not a disease and you deserve to be happy more than anyone I fucking know, okay?”. His words sent tears spilling down my cheeks but I shook my head.

“One day, D-Dad just wasn’t satisfied…he hired a prostitute b-but…but he g-got a taste of his own medicine…she squeezed information out of him a-about us…and the undercovers…and I caught them going at it and…and I didn’t do anything about it! Sh-she…she lied…she said…she said nobody had to know…sh-she…she gave away everything, Jack…about th-the drugs and the crimes…th-the crimes we helped commit…and the mental instability…i-it was a normal night until they swarmed our house…the police a-and the men in the white lab coats…they tried to take me away…to throw me into a-an asylum for all my p-problems…there were too many people…there was too much noise! I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe…they stabbed a needle in my thigh and I woke up in a mental institution…everything was cold and sterile…they had one of th-those one way windows where they watched me like I was some sort of…of…of animal at the zoo! I couldn’t stay there, Jack. I was going insane! S-so…so one night I broke free…it was terrifying and I hated it but…but I got back with my family…we packed only what we needed and we just drove…it was long and horrible and cramped but…but we had no choice. A-and…and that’s how we ended up here…only to be greeted with a shitload of more bullcrap.” I sighed once I finished my story and forced a small, airy, sarcastic laugh before rolling out of his lap and curling against the wall.

Jack was speechless– he sat there in silence for moments on end. And honestly, I didn’t even really expect any more from him. It’s hard to render replies to a revelation so raw and personal. He was the first person I’d ever admitted everything to. And he’d probably be the last.

His silence grew unnerving, though, and it began to drill sharp holes in my sanity. Rotating towards him, I absorbed his expression before speaking. “J-Jack…?”, I murmured. “D-do you think…do you think I could just have some alone time for the rest of the night?”

Jack just nodded slowly and rose from his place on the bed towards the exit. But watching him leave, I felt something strange well up inside me. Desire. Longing. Pain. Rising to kneel on the edge of bed, I called after him. He instantly turned around with a confused look on his face and approached. “What is it?”, he asked carefully.

Pulling him closer, I reached up to grasp his shoulders and met his eyes. My heart pounded and every muscle in my body trembled. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around my waist in response and gently pressed his forehead to mine so we had no choice but to meet each other’s gaze. In a quiet voice, I whispered unsteadily, “Jack…I’m ready to trust again…”. He seemed surprised by my words for a moment before he completely comprehended the full scope of my words and, with a devilish smirk spreading across his face, slid his hands down to just beneath my ass and swept my legs right from underneath me, triggering me to fall backwards onto the bed. He traveled down with me and planted his lips on mine, a rough tango as his hands skated over my body, up my shirt, and unclasped my bra. I gripped his waist in pleasure and slid his hoodie and t-shirt off over his head to reveal the smooth skin of his chest and abdomen as his tongue entered my mouth and wrestled with mine. As we kissed, his frigid hands slid my bra off, then my t-shirt, and began groping my chest, triggering a groan to erupt from my mouth and break the kiss. My lips grazed his neck before planting tiny, delicate kisses all the way down to his shoulder and then across his collarbone while my fingers fumbled with his belt. I felt his hands run up my chest to tangle into my hair as he then began kissing across my collarbone and down my chest. Once I finished unfastening his belt, he was making his way back up my chest and with a mischievous smirk, I expertly tugged him closer so our bodies were pressed breathtakingly close. With a devilish smirk back, he leaned in close and began nibbling my neck as his hands slid down to undo the fastenings of my jeans. Upon sliding them off and tossing them to the side, he began running his fingers through my dark hair and brought his lips down the waist of my underpants. Gently gripping their waist with his teeth, he slid them off and tossed them to the side before kissing up my stomach and continuing upward until he began nibbling on my earlobe. I giggled softly at the sensation before sliding my hands down to remove his pants and underwear, so that now he was completely naked before me. Stopping to kiss me on my forehead, across my eyelids, my cheek, on the tip of my nose, I smirked at him and decided now it was time for me to have a little fun with him. Gripping his waist, I rolled him over so that I was the one on top of him. His eyes widened slightly in surprise at my dominance but I didn’t dare say a single word as I began kissing across his collarbone, down his chest, and then traced the imprint of his hipbone. He released a soft moan and gripped my hair from the pleasure before I slowly shifted downward and began sucking, pumping and massaging with my hands and swirling my tongue. Jack groaned again as I continued, varying the pace, and his fingers gripped my hair even tighter as his other hand desperately grasped at the sheets. I continued on until before he grew close, arousing him just enough, and slid my mouth off him before he quickly flipped me onto my back and penetrated me. I moaned as soon as he did and this time I was the one to grip his hair, wrapping my legs around his waist and groaning his name. He continued to thrust harder and faster, keeping a firm grip on my hips and guiding them along with his, before reaching his climax with one last, strong thrust and a gush of fluid. Gasping for breath, he collapsed on top of me and kissed my chest, my arms wrapping around him as I panted breathlessly.

“V-Violet…”, Jack whispered as he turned his head to look up at me. I looked back down at him curiously. His face was bright red and sweaty and upon caressing his cheek, I discovered he felt insanely warm. He smiled softly at my touch and continued. “D-do you tr-trust me now?” With an airy giggle, I nodded and he leaned up to kiss the tip of my nose. My limbs felt like lead and my eyelids grew heavy and, gasping for breath, I slowly closed my eyes and held Jack close amongst the tangle of sheets upon my bed. But whilst lying there with him, I realized something. That one night so many months ago, the night I went to Koz’s, I told him I wanted him to make me happy as hell and while the sex was wonderful, I wasn’t happy. Tonight, though, with Jack in my arms, our breathing unsteady and our bodies drenched in sweat, as unusual as it sounded, I was finally happy as hell.


	26. 25

The bright morning sun shone through my window as I slowly creaked my eyes open. In the middle of the night, Jack and I must’ve shifted positions for now he was the big spoon to my little one and had his arms wrapped tight around me. The sheets were a tangled mess piled high like a mountain and the pillows had ended up haphazardly strewn across the floor with our clothes. I smiled softly just at the fact that Jack was right beside me and twisted in his grip to face him. His eyes fluttered open from my movement and he lazily smiled back down at me.

“Good morning”, he murmured before kissing the tip of my nose. I giggled softly and kissed him, bidding him the same greeting. “You seem happy”, he observed as we retrieved our clothes and redressed. I nodded vigorously as I pulled my shirt over my head.

“I am. I’m happy because…because I’ve realized that you make me happy”, I replied. He beamed and came forward to cup my face in his hands and plant a delicate kiss on my lips once more before grasping my hand and following me downstairs for breakfast, although nobody else could see him.

The breakfast table looked much like every other morning before. Dash was obnoxiously swerving a toy airplane through the air and Dad was reading the newspaper as he gnawed on his bacon. But there was one thing of difference: Mom was literally bouncing in her seat giddily. I eyed her uncharacteristic behavior suspiciously before questioning, “Mom, everything okay over there?” while I took my seat.

She nodded vigorously and replied, “We have a name for the baby!”. I nodded and tried to seem more interested but quite frankly, I didn’t care much. Regardless, I asked her what it was anyways. She grinned over at my dad, waiting to see if we’d say it with her, but he was too engrossed in his newspaper article to join her, so she announced it by herself: “Jack Jack!”

Jack and I both completely paused in whatever we are doing to look up at her, a mixture of shock and confusion crossing our faces. “Um…uh..‘Jack Jack’…? Mom, where, um, w-where did you, uh, how’d you think up that…?”, I asked cautiously.

“Well, you see”, she began cheerfully. “I was so aggravated with myself last night that we hadn’t picked out a name yet and when I finally fell asleep, I kept tossing and turning over it until suddenly this voice started screaming it in my sleep and it just…I don’t know, came to me!”

“Uh, yeah…uh-huh….”, I responded, for I had no idea what else to say. My mind flashed back to the previous night, shouting Jack’s name in pleasure as he guided my hips with his thrusts. Surely the voice in her dream must’ve been my own, and she mistook it for some baby-naming spirit of her dreams or some shit like that. Regardless, no matter how awkward it was, I didn’t dare tell her the truth. Not only would she be in complete disbelief to know I had had sex with a ghost, but the shock of me having sex with anyone was probably enough to trigger labor.

The morning continued on as I attempted to swallow back the discomfort from the tale of my mother’s baby-name omen and I lounged in one of the living room chairs for the first time since we moved here, Dad approached with a serious look on his face that sent shivers of anxiety down my spine again. “D-Dad…what’s wrong?”, I questioned as I spied mom waddling to the car behind him. Dad just shook his head.

“Your mom and I need to stop at the store to get some last-minute baby supplies. You’re in charge of watching Dash while we’re gone, okay? You know the usual: no fighting, no biting, no screaming, no yelling, no candy, no standing on the furniture, and no boys. Okay?”, he explained. I nodded in agreement, complying to the same rules that always apply when I’m in charge and watched them exit the house.

Dash came running up as they left, glancing from me to them then back to me. Without even looking over at him, I said with a smirk, “I’m in charge.”

“What?!”, Dash screamed in frustration, ever aggravated with my authority.

Smirking over at him, I replied, “You heard him.” Just as we continued our usual small argument regarding seniority, Mom came bustling back into the house with an agitated expression across her face.

Dash and I both gave her questioning looks but all she responded with was, “Forgot my cell phone” and disappeared into the other room. As soon as she left, Dash and I returned to our normal argument until a blood curdling shriek interrupted our antics. My heart stopped. Dash silenced. Dad came rushing in from outside. Jack sprinted from the kitchen and skidded to a stop beside me, trembling slightly. There could only be one explanation for a shriek such as that. Vaulting from the lounge chair, I sprinted into the kitchen to find Mom gripping the back of one of the chairs, her knuckles white and her face flushed as she clenched her eyes tight and hyperventilated. Surrounding her feet was a puddle of blood and fluid.

~o~

Tension. Incomparable tension that pulsed through each one of us, sending trembles of anxiety through my body. With my knees drawn up to my chest, I buried my face in my hands to try and stabilize myself as Jack knelt behind me on the couch and rubbed small circles in my back. Dash lounged beside me, idly swerving his toy plane through the stale air in silence for there wasn’t really room for much more noise. In Mom’s condition, getting her to the car and safely to the hospital was impossible. Dad dialed emergency and paramedics swooped into the house as soon as they could, their invasion all too similar to that which started the great bedlam which drove us here in the first place. The irony was sickening.

For the past three hours, all we had heard erupting from the kitchen was the countless shrieks and groans of our own mother, her pain more severe than any we had ever seen or heard her endure before. Another shiver ran down my spine and Jack kissed my shoulder as he continued to massage my lower back. Turning to face him, I whispered weakly, “Jack…I’m scared…”

Jack nodded and whispered back, “I know but everything’s going to be fine. I promise, everything’s going to be alright” before kissing the tip of my nose. I giggled softly at the gesture and at the sweet irony– Jack Frost nipping at your nose. Curling up in his lap, I buried my face in his hoodie to try and catch a few minutes of sleep in the midst of all the chaos until suddenly…silence. The screaming stopped. The desperate wail of a newborn baby soon took it’s place. My body went entirely stiff. Dash paused in his little charade. Jack gripped my shoulder in an effort to keep me somewhat sane, as if doing otherwise would suddenly cause him to fade into the background if I became submerged in the moments ahead. And it was true. If he hadn’t, I would’ve forgotten he was there and lost all hope of sanity, for nothing could’ve prepared me for the vision we witnessed next.

The kitchen door slowly creaked open, the main paramedic emerging from the bright room with a look of horror and disbelief painted across his pale face. His eyes landed on me and then Dash, each for but a mere second, before murmuring bluntly, “She didn’t make it…”

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand what his vile words meant– I comprehended them perfectly. The dilemma was that I may have comprehended them a little too well. My entire body went stone-still, my eyes wide with disbelief and glossy with impending tears. Dash leaned forward in his seat and mumbled the words “Mom…?”, in heartbreaking shock. Then all in an instant, we both suddenly became mobile, jolting forward like rockets, straight into the kitchen to survey the mess. The scene was terrifying.

Blood-stained sheets were strewn across the floor, pools of the red substance and uterine fluid scattered across the tile. Dad knelt on the floor, sobbing and staring down at his newborn baby, wrapped in a dishtowel and writhing demonically. His eyes were jet blue, his skin almost tinged purple, and from his wide open mouth, I almost spied the hint of pearly razors jutting from his gums. There was a the strange presence of limp paramedics scattered across the floor in puddles of blood, as well, but they seemed to show now significance at that specific moment. But the most heartbreaking aspect of all was out mother: her face pale and sunken in, her hands clenched and her eyes wide with prior pain. She laid there across the floor limp and lifeless, her body contorted in an almost painful shape. She stared up at the iridescent lights attached to the ceiling. I pulled Dash in close as tears streamed down our cheeks, our throats occupied with wailing, and my knees clashed with the hard tile floor as our eyes stayed transfixed on the figure of our bloodied, contorted, now-dead mother.


	27. Epilogue

Silence. The only term remotely appropriate enough to describe this. The silence of the drive. The silence of his unspoken words. The silence of that moment when everything ended and life seemed to no longer have purpose. My eyes stayed transfixed on the world outside, grays and blacks and blues all blurring together into some poorly composed landfill watercolor. Even Jack Jack’s writhing and wailing didn’t seem to constitute any reason to consider this ride noisy: it was the ignorance we all bade one another that categorized the quiet. This was the way life was now.

Dad groaned and slammed the brakes as we reached a late red light and he shouted in frustration, “Will somebody please do something to quiet him?!” Dash was silent and pretended not to hear his father’s pleas but I knew better. Ever since Mom’s death and the events that came after, our nerves were all thin and taut. With a frustrated sigh, I reached down into the hefty blue baby bag seated at my feet and pulled a giraffe plushie from it’s pocket, cautiously handing it to the infant. He grinned at me and generously hugged the toy to his chest before a demonic smile spread across his face and he ripped the toy to shreds, tossing the fluff about the backseat before biting into the fabric of his car seat. We hadn’t paid much attention to it then but the dead paramedics in our kitchen the night of his birth weren’t some mirage or there by coincidence. Dad claimed that when Jack Jack was born, he stole the medical tools right from the paramedics in his tiny little hands, stabbing them with surgical knives and strangling them with his umbilical cord. The only one who survived was the main paramedic who emerged in disbelief. This child was no doubt satanic spawn, unpredictable and unnerving. Often times many deemed him so sweet to gaze upon but when they approached, he grew feral and violent.

Turning back to press my forehead against the car window, I stared out miserably at the blur of the scenery as the industrial wasteland of Burgess began fading into treelines and smogless skies. My mind constantly flashed back to the image of Mom’s dead body, unsettling but I could never escape it.

Mere days after the birth of death, or so I had deemed it, I was riddled by insane bouts of insomnia, curled up in a tangled mess of sheets and blankets and staring off into space to pass the eternal hours. An incongruous clatter soon shook me from my daze, though, and with a muster of strength, I slowly ventured towards the sound. It was a soft, sultry hum accompanied with the pounding of heavy footsteps– for a quick moment I mistook it for Dad roaming the halls but it was an unnatural hour and the sounds were more threatening. Inching my way down the hallway, I caught sight of a black mass rushing into the doorway of Jack Jack’s bedroom. With a gasp of fear, I reached for the nearest improvisational weapon I could find– a glass vase– and slowly slipped into the pitch black room.

Cooing wickedly, the Nightmare stood hunched over the baby’s crib, caressing his supple cheek with dark, rubber-clad finger. A demonic lullaby flowed from his lips. “Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!”

Just as he reached the last line of the song, I snuck up behind him and raised the vase above my head to shatter it upon his skull but in an instant, he had gripped my wrist and kneed me in the stomach, right where he had stabbed me so many months prior, so as to send me barreling onto the floor with a grunt. “You know, Violet. You think you’d be smarter than that” he jested, ripping the vase from my hands. “After all we’ve been through.”

“W-we’re not over yet!”, I shouted, attempting to swing my leg out to knock him off his feet. But Koz caught onto my plan and stepped over me.

Kneeling down beside me, he lifted my chin up to face him and pouted his lips in mock sympathy. “Ooh, poor baby. But no. You’re not over yet. But you will be” and with a smirk, he raised the vase above his head and shattered it across my face, the shards of glass scraping my cheek and forehead, some even jamming into my neck. With a shriek of pain, I curled up into myself and gasped for air as Koz rose to return to his previous engagement. “You know, it’s all quite ridiculous, really. Being treated so savagely just for wanting to see my son.”

“He’s none of your business.” A voice, deep and threatening, called from the doorway. The hall light, recently turned on, illuminated him from behind in an almost angelic fashion as he glared deathly at Koz.

The Nightmare grinned at this new arrival, testing Jack’s patience as he swooped down and scooped Jack Jack up in his arms. “Oh really?”, he asked in response. “Because I think the creation spawned from my own sperm is very much my business, don’t you agree?”

I gasped Jack’s name but the words barely held any volume. Blood poured down my face and dripped into my eyes, my throat hoarse from the pain. Regardless of my inability to speak, Jack stole a hard glance in my direction before meeting Koz’s eyes once more and advancing forward. “Your business is in hell where you belong”, Jack fired back.

Koz rolled his eyes sarcastically and began circling the room, Jack Jack in his arms. “Regardless of my business, Jack, why must you always get involved in things that aren’t of your business?”

“You made it my business when you put Violet in danger”, Jack responded, his hands tightly grasping his old man stick. He never did tell me the purpose of that. It was then that Koz’s eyes widened and he began laughing maniacally.

“Oh, this is precious! You’ve fallen in love with her, haven’t you, Jack?”, the Nightmare accused, growing dangerously close to my body lying on the floor. Each facial movement I tried to commit ached horrendously but I forced myself to look up at him. He had a villainous scowl across his face and his Doc Martens reeked of sewage and sludge. Jack’s face reddened at Koz’s assumption but he didn’t utter a word. “Then if you aren’t in love with her, Jack, it shouldn’t bother you if I perhaps…toy with her a bit”, Koz added, a mischievous smirk spreading across his face as he jammed the toe of his shoe into my stomach again and a fresh, new wave of pain distributed itself in a radial pattern.

Almost immediately, Jack’s eyes narrowed and he lurched towards Koz, Jack Jack flying from his arms. Spying the infant launching airborne, a rush of adrenaline jolted through my veins and I dove after him, hugging him to my chest once he was in my arms as I rammed into the wall and slid down to the floor. He writhed and fussed but so long as he was safe, I was content. Meanwhile, Jack fought Koz in a violent tango, two writhing bodies struggling against each other as they tripped over whimsical plastic obstacles and grabbed for anything within reach for weaponry. As the pain began to return to my face and Jack Jack struggled in my tight grasp, puncturing holes into my arms with his sharp little teeth, Jack’s eyes met mine during their struggle, flooded with desperation. “Violet! Run! Now!”, he screamed, snagging his shepherd’s staff and hooking Koz’s neck in it’s curved tip. With fearful eyes and a quick nod, I snagged a shard of broken glass off the floor and slithered into the hallway, aiming the sharp sliver at the prominent bulge of Koz’s crotch before disappearing.

A shriek of pain erupted from the room as I stumbled down the stairs and towards the basement, the safest place I could think of at the moment. It was dark and drafty, a secretive congregation of rats scurrying in the shadows. Spreading the small, woolen blanket out, I laid Jack Jack on it’s surface and tossed him one of the plastic lids off the laundry detergent to occupy him. From all the way down there, I could still detect the clashes and bangs of the two struggling ghosts upstairs. Jack Jack and I were apparently the only ones who could see them, so whatever everyone else perceived the ruckus to be was their own interpretation. With tender fingers, I grazed my face, fragments of glass still lodged into my skin. My eyes stung with the presence of dirty blood flooding their sockets and, blindly, I felt for the sink and fresh laundry basket. My trembling fingers pulled the slivers from my skin, creating a neat little pile in the basin before rinsing my face off with the frigid water. The cold stung and the blood stained the fluid a rusty red but after a few moments of thorough cleaning, I could see again.

The clatter above us grew louder as I detected the fight mobilized. My heart pounded as the sounds grew nearer and nearer until suddenly…silence. With wide eyes, I staggered toward the base of the creaking stairs just as the basement door flung open. An angelic figure lighted from behind descended like those biblical, winged guardians. Releasing a shriek of relief, I wrapped my arms around Jack’s neck and buried my still-bleeding face in his hoodie. He was pale and clammy, a fresh bruise forming around his right eye. His entire body was trembling and his eyes were wide with fear and disbelief. He only ever uttered four words: “The deed is done.”

The next couple nights were struggles with panic. Jack Jack was a chore, Mom’s death was depressing, and nobody possessed enough motivation to help out. Dad was moody and Dash was distant and so, being the only woman left in the household, I subconsciously took up the chores. Each day was going through the motions rather than any legitimate feeling. The only emotions which reigned were misery, pain, and self-harm satisfaction. I cared for no one.

It was one day, though, that Jack detected this in me: this blossoming hatred for the world. And after all, who wouldn’t hate when they’ve been encumbered in the sense for so long? I heard his footsteps approach as I nested in a mountain of blankets, guarding myself as I sliced my arm and smeared the blood on the beheaded body of that old Barbie doll. Catching sight of my cutting, Jack dove over my barrier and snatched the blade from my hand.

“Hey, stop that!”, he commanded, leaning down to suck the surfacing blood off my flesh. My eyes were puffy from tears. Tilting my head up to face him, he added, “You promised you wouldn’t cut yourself again. I know you know better. You have to promise me you’ll stop, Violet!”

Jerking my head out of his gentle grasp, I rolled my eyes and mumbled, “Fine” as I pressed my forehead against the window and stared out at the dying flowerbeds. After pausing a moment, Jack gingerly placed the blade on the nightstand and took a seat on the edge of the bed. His presence was cold and tragic.

“V-Violet…I know…I know things haven’t been easy…”, he murmured, reaching his hand out to brush my hair away from my face. I jerked my head around to scowl at him and he quickly recoiled, averting his eyes and continuing his spiel. “But I’m trying. I’m trying to help you through this but…but you’re not making this easy. If…if there’s something I’m doing wrong, could you…could you just tell me…?”

Glaring over at him, I growled low, “Nobody ever asked you to help, Jack.” Recoiling from my words, his eyes softened and gradually filled with tears as he dug his fingers into the azure cotton of his hoodie.

“Violet…”, he started. “Something…something’s changed in you…towards me…Y-you’re…you’re distant…cold…I don’t know what I’ve done, but I’ll leave you alone from now on if that’s what you want….I-Is that what you want…?” We endured silence as he awaited my answer.

“I think I’m depressed…”, I finally said.

“Are you?”

“I’ve been sleeping a lot”, I responded, my fingers grazing the bloodied plastic of the doll. “I’m unhappy.”

Jack just nodded and I could see a desire burning within him to come closer, but he refrained. “I know.” His eyes glimmered and a few small tears slipped down his cheeks. “You know why I’d leave you alone? Because I care about your feelings more than mine. I…I love you…and…and I would never let anyone or anything hurt you and I can’t stand to see you in pain. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

My heart raced at his words, those three little words that meant so much. Overwhelmed, I bit down hard on my bottom lip before burying my face in my hands and breaking down into tearful sobs. With a deep inhale, Jack murmured, “Come here”, and scooted closer to wrap his arms around me.

Sniffling, I kept my face hidden in my hands and went rigid at his touch. “I’m tired…”, I wept.

Jack nodded and kissed my shoulder. “Me too.”

I shook my head and forced myself to uncover my face, tears spilling down my cheeks and blurring my vision. “N-No, Jack. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of here.” I refused to look at him.

Craning his neck to see me better, he eyed me curiously and whispered, “What do you mean?”

Closing my eyes tight, I shook my head and whispered back in wavering response, “I want to leave.” Jack recoiled in unmistakable pain, loosening his grasp around my frail body as I trembled with sobs.

The next few days were spent packing. I didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone. This hellhole I had been trapped in for months had brought nothing but pain and death and destruction. Now I had no reason to stay. Mom was dead, Koz was finally dead. The town rejoiced in that they were finally free of their Nightmare. And what’s more, we were burdened with an infant Satan. Even if nobody else joined me in my escape, I was going to leave this godforsaken town if it killed me.

Gingerly folding my t-shirts and stacking them up in a suitcase, I bit my lip hard to try and ignore the two sapphire eyes drilling holes in my back. He became so needy, so obsessive, so distantly desperate. All he ever did anymore was stare at me packing in some false hope I’d change my mind, slumping against the doorway like my threat of departure murdered his spine. Turning to snatch another pile of clothes from the drawer, Jack was suddenly inches from my face, gripping my waist and staring down at me with teary eyes.

“Violet, just listen to me. Please, don’t do this!”, he begged before leaning down to plant his lips on mine. I silently turned my face away before he could kiss me and wiggled from his grasp. With a frustrated sob, he turned me around to face him. “Y-You can’t leave! V-Violet, I love you!”

Tears threatened to pour from my eyes then, too. Why did he have to keep saying that? Each vocal confession of affection shifted me one inch further from leaving, from doing what was necessary for my own benefit. And maybe that was selfish, thinking only of myself, but I had spent so much of my time worrying about other people and what they were doing, that I had never bothered to think of the toll it was taking on myself. I was tired of ignoring me. I clenched my eyes shut tight and bit my lip hard as I inhaled sharply before gazing at the floor and mumbling in unstable response, “I love you, too…but that’s exactly why I can’t stay…”

I didn’t dare further elaborate any affections towards him. I hadn’t the strength. Days passed and the car was once again piled high with luggage. Dash was silent as he trudged to the backseat of the car and Dad hugged a crimson urn to his chest. There was no time to give Mom a proper funeral and none of us wanted the fuss, anyways. Leaning down to the rotting porch steps, we placed a bouquet of black orchids as homage to her untimely death, instead. My heart shattered to leave the memory of her behind in such a fucked up setting but the satisfaction of finally leaving far outweighed that pain.

As I turned to head back to the car, I could feel Jack’s eyes watching me leave from the attic window. That same window that many a time I had peered out of to survey the vast cityscape before me. Imagining him framed there triggered another onset of tears but I swallowed back hard the wails which began rising in my throat. I willed away any heartbreak as I slid into the car beside Jack Jack’s car seat.

Turning down the street, my head suddenly acted as if completely capable of it’s own actions and pivoted towards the back window to peer one more time at the wretched house. From the attic window, Jack’s solemn face met mine and I swallowed back the wails that rose in my throat from his expression: one of longing and love and heartbreak. He bit his lip to will away the tears as he pressed his hand against the grimy window before disappearing a split second later. As soon as his vision was gone, I turned to face frontward and curled up in my seat.

I never knew until then how hard it is to pry yourself away from someone you’ve grown so attached to, someone you’d fallen so deeply in love with. I never knew until then how deeply in love I had fallen. But maybe sometimes that detachment is best for the safety of both you. A part of me wished so desperately that I had had the strength to stay behind but I knew that just wasn’t what fate had in store. It’s impossible to change what’s already been decided but one day, someday, there shone a glimmer of hope deep within my dark, shattered soul. Hope that once again, by some strange coincidence, I’d once again see that strange, cryptic, white-haired boy again. A boy who for so long I had been irked by beyond compare but yet fallen so incredulously in love with. To see him again, hear his soft voice whisper words of reassurance and his arms wrap me in cool embrace. Maybe he was the only person I ever truly loved. And maybe he would be the only person I ever truly loved.

Recollecting everything as Burgess disappeared into the distance, I shifted in my seat only to discover a discomforting sharpness poking at my thigh. Sliding two fingers into the small pocket of my jeans, I retrieved a small piece of paper, crumpled and frigid. With a quick glance over at the others, I curled up secretively in the corner of the backseat and unfolded the message with confusion, my heart pounding and my hands trembling. A gust of arctic air burst through the open windows as my eyes scanned the text written in blue ballpoint pen:

Wherever you go, I will always follow.


End file.
